Team CLVR (silver)
by Teller Graves
Summary: The journey of a young girl trying to earn her place at the famous Atlas Academy to begin her training as a Huntress. She and her brother are slowly drawn into the conflict in Vale as they begin to uncover the secrets of their own past. This is an OC fanfiction that starts in the kingdom of Atlas two years before the start of RWBY, and runs parallel to the canon plot.
1. Foreword

Even after all this time, the passing of Monyreak "Monty" Oum still weighs heavily on the hearts of his fans. I am one of them. I never met the man personally, and I knew him only through his work, which started for me in late 2007, when I was browsing GameTrailers and happened upon the first video of his now-famous _Dead Fantasy _animation. I was awed at the spectacle, and had been quietly following him ever since. I was thrilled at the announcement that he was going to work for Rooster Teeth as an animator on their _Red vs Blue _series, which was something else I had been a silent fan of when they made their Internet debut back in 2003 when I was still in college. To be honest, I had lost track of the series sometime around Season Three, and up until that moment I wasn't even aware it was still going on.

When I first read the announcement that Monty was going to helm his own series, I wasn't sure what to think. For lack of a better description, the first trailer was very "Monty", and contained many of the hallmarks I had come to attribute to his signature style. I couldn't tell you for certain when exactly I became so enamored with the world he had created, or even why. Perhaps it was the heavy fairytale inspiration, the curious blending of Japanese and Western style animation, or the sheer audacity of the spectacle as only Monty could conceive. What I can tell you for certain is that this story began in response to the Twitter post made by Monty, in which he outlined the rules that were to be followed for character creation in the RWBY universe:

"And I like that you think about these things because I was the same one day, watching someone else's work, dreaming up my own. Setting rules for yourself that are difficult to overcome is hard. But that's why we do it!"

Challenge accepted, sir.

This story started out as the creation of an OC team. As I followed the plot of the show, I surmised that, with a big tournament coming up, the production staff at Rooster Teeth would host a contest with the intent of generating teams for the main characters to compete against. I wasn't about to let the fact that I can't draw for shit get in the way of a chance to make a contribution to a world that I had grown so fond of. So I began to create a team. Even though my prediction for an Original Character contest no longer seems to be accurate, I couldn't stop myself from wondering about the journey that would bring these individuals to the tournament. Any story can be interesting, after all. It just depends on how you do it.

There is no futility in death, Monty. And this journey is for you.


	2. Prologue

A chill wind drifted across the patio prompting Cyan to draw her blanket tighter around her shoulders, her long auburn-colored hair falling loose around them. Even though the actual temperature wasn't that low, the air was heavy with moisture, cooled by the low-hanging winter sun. Some of it had already collected on the nearby grass and crystallized into a light frost. Cyan sighed and gently rocked back on the porch swing, turning her gaze upwards to the sky. The sun had finished setting behind the distant city skyline half an hour ago, and the brilliant hues were now giving way to the gentle twinkles of star light. The wind had carried away all of the clouds that had held the colors of the sunset, and it was going to be a perfect crystal clear night sky. She stared up at it for a while until the sound of creaking wooden floorboards alerted her to a visitor.

A shadow was cast onto the deck by the light from the front door, and the spring groaned as door was opened. The figure inside quickly slipped out and let the door click shut. Vermilion cut an imposing figure for only fifteen years of age; a hair below two meters tall, broad shoulders with sharp facial features, and a luxurious shock of red hair parted down the middle into long bangs that fell almost to his cheeks on either side of his face, with the rest swept backwards into a closely cropped trim. He still wore his school uniform, but his exposed arms were thick with wiry muscles, the rewards of a new training regimen. Cyan looked up to see him favoring her with one of those 'big brotherly' smiles that she hated so much. She turned away in silence as he moved to sit beside her on the bench.

"Rough day, huh?", he asked.

She said nothing, continuing to stare straight ahead, but gave a little shrug of one shoulder as a reply.

Vermilion pressed his lips together, nodded slowly, and looked down. They sat quietly for a moment before he spoke again, "Dad was looking for you. He said he wants to talk to you once the neighbors leave."

Cyan's head suddenly snapped upwards, and she shot a hard, wide-eyed glare at her brother, "You _told_ him?"

"Hey c'mon, he was going to find out eventually." Vermilion replied, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture, "Would you rather he heard it from the headmaster first?"

She bolted up from the swing, a flurry of thoughts rushing through her mind. She first thought of running, then dismissed it when she realized she had nowhere to go. Then she replayed the scene from the training ring in her head over and over again, trying to come up with some other exculpating factor, but there had been no one else but her involved. She huffed out her breath and then fell back onto the swing in exhaustion.

Vermilion cocked his head to one side in an acknowledging nod, "Well that was quicker than usual. This must be serious."

Cyan glared crushed ice at him and said, "Stop pretending like you know what I'm thinking."

Vermilion responded with another chuckle, "You're just too easy to read, little sister."

"And stop calling me that! We're the same age!"

He started to laugh and correct her oversight of six weeks, but after seeing her expression thought the better of it. He was also about to pat her on the head, but then quickly thought the better of that too. He began to say something else, but before he could speak the front door creaked open again. Mrs. Zee, the neighbor from a few houses away stepped out, followed closely by their father. She was a vibrant woman; tall, with partially greying hair coiled into a small bun at the base of her neck, black skin and even darker eyebrows, wearing a wool turtleneck sweater. She engaged in polite conversation with Dad as they stepped on to the porch.

"I'm sure it will be fine." he said as he shook her hand, "Stop by the pharmacy tomorrow and we'll find a treatment that will help."

"Thank you, Dr. Athelward." she replied.

"Please. Conroy." he gently corrected with a smile.

She nodded graciously and smiled back, then turned to look down at the siblings on the porch swing, both of whom immediately stood up. Mrs. Zee smiled back down at them with the eyes of a loving mother, "Oh, hello you two."

Vermilion smiled and nodded politely, as did Cyan, only without the smile.

"How is school going?"

Cyan flinched and looked away. Vermilion noticed and took an imperceptible step forward, "Going well. The instructors say at our rate we might be ready to apply to the academy by next year."

"A year early? Wonderful, good for you." she paused before she turned to leave, "Oh, Cyan? If you see my son tomorrow, would you please tell him to come home at night for a change?"

Cyan nodded and replied, "Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Zee chuckled at the formality and inclined her head to Dad once more before stepping off the porch. The three of them lingered in place watching her leave before Dad turned towards the two of them. He looked down at Cyan, who nervously chewed on her lower lip, but stared directly back up at him. They remained that way for a long moment, with her brother looking back and forth between them.

"Vermilion," he said, breaking the silence at last, "Would you... go and set the table for dinner?"

"Sure, Dad." the boy nodded, seemingly grateful for the excuse to leave. He gave his sister another look with both eyebrows raised, and stepped back inside. Cyan took the opportunity to collapse back onto the swing. Dad watched Vermilion disappear into the dining room before he said anything.

"So," he said, moving to sit next to her on the bench, "your brother said you had an interesting day."

"It's none of his business." Cyan spat out quickly.

"No? Well it is mine." he replied sternly, "It wasn't enough that you were picking fights with the other students? You're picking them with the instructors now, too?"

"I wasn't!" Cyan protested.

"You called him an 'ignorant old geezer'."

Cyan crossed her arms defiantly and scowled, "Only after he called me a loud-mouthed brat."

Dad ignored the interruption, and continued, "And you said _you_ could teach a better class than he could?"

"He just didn't want to admit he was wrong!"

Dad rubbed his forehead, "It doesn't matter if you think he's wrong. It was martial instruction. He is the teacher. You are the student. You're there to learn."

"So I should sit there quietly and practice obviously inferior techniques?" she asked, voice laden with sarcasm.

Dad cast a sidelong glance at the ground and sighed, "Well, no."

"Then, what? I should dumb myself down for the benefit of everyone else?"

"Of course not, Cyan don't be obtuse." he exhaled, pushing out the building frustration with it, "He has to teach using methods that are of the greatest benefit to everyone. Just because you pick them up more quickly doesn't make them 'inferior'."

"But he—"

"And even if you found a _superior_ method," he continued, placing a noticeable emphasis on the word, "there is a much better way of informing the teacher than trying to call him out and embarrass him in front of the entire class. You could have stayed after the lecture was over and spoken to him privately. You could have gone to him on your own time and asked for more advanced instruction, after first proving you could handle it."

Cyan opened her mouth in further protest, but closed it again when she couldn't think of anything to say.

Resting his hands on his knees, he took a deep breath, in preparation for one of his many lectures, "Cyan, this isn't a normal preparatory school you're in. It's one of the most difficult combat schools in the entire kingdom of Atlas. You're training to be a Huntress."

She sighed, "I know."

"And as a Huntress, you are going to have responsibilities. The cities might be safe now, but the creatures of Grimm outside them are dangerous, and you'll be expected to face them. The fundamentals you are learning now—"

"'are the foundation of all my future training.'" she finished, "I know, I know!"

Dad's expression changed to one of forlorn exasperation, "Then why do you always have to be so confrontational about everything?"

"I—", she lifted her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them tightly. The defiance drained from her face, being quickly replaced by fatigue, "I don't know."

The breeze picked up again, and Cyan found herself shuddering from the cold. She shuddered again when her father wrapped his arms around her in a hug. His warmth washed over her in waves that eased the anxiety out of her.

"You don't have anything to prove to anyone." he said quietly, "As long as you are doing your absolute best, I'll be proud of you, alright?"

She nodded, sniffing her emotions back, and then turn her head to smile at him, "Thanks, Dad."

He smiled back and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"Well, I'm glad we got that over with." he said, with a sigh of relief, "I've been holding on to this all day just so we didn't have to end on a sour note."

He reached behind him and produced a small, brightly wrapped, rectangular box from his back pocket and placed it in her lap, "Happy birthday."

Cyan's bright cerulean eyes glittered with anticipation. She picked up the box and turned it over and over again in her fingers, "What is it?"

"A present." he said through a sardonic grin.

She half-lowered her eyes to him, "I know that!"

"Then open it, silly."

She did, and the wrapping paper quickly gave way to a dark-blue velvet jewelry case. Cyan pried it open, and revealed a small silver necklace, upon which hung an intricately carved facsimile of the moon, with the fragments trailing behind it in perfect alignment. She carefully removed the pendant from the box and held it up in front of her, watching it sparkle delicately in the faint illumination provided by the night sky.

"Oh Dad, it's beautiful."

"It was your mother's." he said, "I think she would have wanted you to have it."

Cyan stiffened, then she turned the moon over to see "Mireille", her namesake, embossed on the back. She settled back against the swing again, regarding the pendant thoughtfully.

"You never talk about her."

It wasn't really a question.

Dad turned away and leaned back as well, staring straight ahead off the porch. Several lines formed around his mouth, but he said nothing. Cyan had never known her mother, but she had always known that she didn't share a mother with Vermilion despite them looking practically like twins. She also knew that Vermilion's mother had been gravely injured during a Grimm attack and then died giving birth to him. She had also done the math. Her brother was only six weeks older than she was. Which meant that her mother had been pregnant with her the same time Vermilion's mother was pregnant with him. She had been asking Dad about her since she was old enough to add, but despite her inquiries, he never said a word.

"Someday you'll understand it, when you're ready," he said finally, "Just know that she loved you." he looked down at her again, his smile returning, "And so do I."

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms tightly around the back of his neck, "I love you too, Dad."

He returned her embrace, and they sat there quietly on the porch swing until her grumbling stomach reminded her that dinner was waiting inside. He grinned at her and rose from the bench. She followed him up, proudly fastened the pendant around her neck, and followed her dad inside.


	3. Chapter 1

Cyan exited the headmaster's office, heaving out the tension in a great sigh. Two weeks. Two solid weeks of after school drilling. That was her penance for "insubordinate behavior" and "gross misconduct". She scowled and shot a dirty look back towards the office. More than an hour that had taken, and that was without her even saying a word. They certainly seemed to enjoy hearing themselves talk. She had taken to measuring how far out the instructor's nostril flared as he snarled out her name when they began repeating themselves for the third time "just to make certain they were clear". Keeping her mouth shut in there had taken virtually all of her remaining energy, and if nothing else, she was grateful they had chosen to talk to her at the end of the day rather than the beginning. Whatever. It was over now. All she had to do was make it to the door and this rotten day would be far behind—

As she turned the corner, she quietly spat a vicious curse at whatever being was in charge of irony. Ahead of her were three of the upper classmen who had attended the martial instruction yesterday approaching her from the far end of the hall. When the one in the front noticed her, a malicious grin spread across his face and they all strode confidently down the hall with purpose. Cyan quickly surveyed the hall, and suddenly regretted how quickly she had walked away from the headmaster's office. There were no other instructors in her immediate line of sight, and the few other students she saw quickly averted their gaze when she looked at them. She bit her lip and headed away from them in a different direction. They had a much larger gait than her, and, in spite of her quickened stride, were rapidly closing the gap while moving at what couldn't even be considered a leisurely pace. Being a little small for her age, all three of them were taller than her, with the tallest having nearly a head in height, and she had a pretty good idea which direction any conversation with them would be headed. Individually, she might be able to handle any one of them, but she didn't like the odds of a three-on-one in a confined hallway, especially with the headmaster's warning about fighting echoing fresh in her mind. She stopped and turned to face them, affecting the sternest look she could muster, while she considered her options.

Before she could come to a decision the one in front suddenly stopped. She looked up to see his smile was gone, replaced by a look of uncertainty. He quickly broke his gaze and the three of them turned down the first hallway they reached. Cyan blinked once, then smirked. Bullies were all alike; the instant you show just a bit of backbone they move on to an easier target. Her smirk vanished when she turned back around and saw Vermilion standing just ahead of her, looking both amused and pleased with himself.

Cyan gave him a scornful look as she stalked past him, "I don't need you to babysit me. I can handle myself."

The two of them headed for the lobby and pushed the front doors open. Outside, the sun beamed down through spotted clouds. Cyan closed her eyes for a moment and looked up, briefly enjoying the sensation of warmth as they walked. On their way towards the edge of the campus, they passed several athletic fields sparsely populated with students who chose to spend their off hours training: some ran, others engaged in muscle building exercises, and more than a couple participated in various levels of sparring. Cyan kept a brisk pace so as to stay just ahead of Vermilion so she didn't have to look too much at him when he spoke.

"Just looking out for you."

"You don't see me hanging over your shoulder and correcting your essays for you, do you?" she said with scoff.

"Not any more, at least." he replied with a chuckle.

"Then don't hang over mine when I'm handling a... situation."

Vermilion rolled his eyes, "Oh yes, I could see you had _that_ situation well in hand."

Cyan muttered something under her breath that Vermilion couldn't quite make out, but he surmised it was suitably derogatory. They crossed the street away from the campus grounds and started in the direction of home. All told, the campus itself encompassed an area the size of several city blocks, once you accounted for the athletic fields. It was one of the oldest buildings in the city, and it's enormous pointed tan bricks stood in stark contrast to the more modern buildings around it. The three largest wings were set in a U-shape surrounded by a shoulder height gated wall, The grounds also sported several carefully tended shrubs, a single bright spot of nature in the center of the concrete jungle that was Atlas City. The sounds of the inner-city pedestrian and vehicular traffic provided a distracting buzz from the day's events. She allowed the cascading noise to wash over her and got lost in her own thoughts.

"So," he began, trying to change the subject, "did you decide on something for graduation yet?"

"Huh?"

"A weapon." he clarified, "This is the first year that Herald is adopting the program from Signal Academy. Everyone will have to forge their own weapon in order to graduate."

"Right now I'm more concerned with just making it to graduation." Cyan replied with a sigh.

Vermilion turned his head quizzically, then nodded back towards the school in understanding, "You know, you probably wouldn't have so much trouble with the seniors if you tried being just a little bit nicer."

"I'll try being nicer when they try being smarter." she shot back at him.

Vermilion raised a palm to his forehead and rubbed at his eyes, mumbling out the beginnings of one of Dad's lectures, but Cyan had already tuned him out. Her gaze happened upon a large group of individuals on the other side of the street. Five larger men were standing in a semicircle around two more, one of whom stood defensively in front of the other, who was presently on the ground, curled up against the side of the building with his arm raised over his eyes.

"Hey," Vermilion said, "hey, are you even listen—"

"Is that Lyoh?" she interrupted.

Vermillion blinked, and turned to look in the direction Cyan was pointing. He observed the situation with a frown, "Not again."

Zee Lyohniy was the only son of their neighbor from several houses down. He was the first person they had met after they moved here two years ago and, for some reason, had decided he liked them enough to follow them around ever since. He was a year older than them, an inch above six feet, and, like Vermilion, sported more than a fair amount of muscle. He had dark, closely cropped hair with the barest fuzz of stubble on his chin, dark skin, and often chose to wear a forest green leather duster over his school uniform. Lately, however, he had been having trouble at school. He disappeared during lectures, his grades had begun to slip, and he often showed up to the campus late, when he bothered to show up at all. His mother hadn't spoken about it to them directly, but Cyan had overheard the conversations with her dad. She was worried he had gotten involved with some of the local street gangs, but Cyan didn't believed that for a second. Even if he did have a habit of getting into other's fights, not caring who was involved.

She took a few cautious steps towards the curb, "Who's that with him? He doesn't look like a student."

"No." Vermilion confirmed, "And look at their masks. And their arms—those patches they're all wearing…"

He pointed at the five men, and Cyan noted the white bands tied around their left arms just above the bicep. They contained an insignia of a wolf's head with three red lines drawn through it at an angle, like claw marks.

"Those guys are White Fang." Vermilion said.

Cyan gulped. According to her history class, the White Fang originally formed at the end of the Faunus Rights Revolution to celebrate the newfound peace between the Faunus and humans. They worked to ensure the fair and equal treatment of Faunus; mostly by holding rallies, staging boycotts, and organizing nonviolent mass protests. But that all changed about three years ago, when they adopted a far more militant stance in response to continued discrimination. Now, instead of rallies, they were causing riots. Instead of boycotts, they were burning businesses to the ground. Worst of all were the rumors of kidnappings and assaults against companies that supposedly exploited the Faunus as cheap labor.

Naturally, all the members of the group were Faunus: some were stronger than average humans, others with faster reflexes, and all usually had any number of other animal traits like better hearing or nearly perfect night vision. That, coupled with a fierce hatred of humans, often made for disastrous interactions with anyone caught in their path. She had also read that their masks—sharp, angular things that covered the top half of their faces, usually gray, and done in affectations of creatures of Grimm—were adopted as a response to human antagonism. Humanity chose to treat them as monsters, so monsters they became.

Vermilion looked up and down the nearly empty side street, "We should get the police."

The group closed in on Lyohniy and whoever was with him. Cyan's heart began pounding, but she forced the terror away, covering it with a practiced glacial calm.

"No time." she replied, and without a hint of warning suddenly broke into a dead sprint.

"Wait a second!"

By the time he could get the words out, she was already halfway across the street. Vermilion growled in frustration as he followed her. The sound of one of the White Fang member's voice carried to her as she closed the distance.

"Alright, that's it! You had your chance, kid!"

He cocked his right arm back past his head, and Lyohniy shifted his stance, raising both arms in preparation to absorb the blow. In the same instant the Faunus pushed off his back leg, Vermilion collided with him, throwing all of his weight into an elbow strike aimed squarely at his ribs while Cyan leapt through the air and planted the heels of both feet in a dropkick that connected with the side of his head. The Faunus was thrown a full meter in the air before crashing into the wall of the nearby building. Cyan turned the force of her impact into a full backflip and landed in a crouch on Lyohniy's right. Vermilion pushed through his attack and skidded to a halt covering the flank to his left. They moved into a clean defensive formation around their friend, keeping a wary eye on their assailants.

Lyohniy blinked in stunned surprise as he looked rapidly back and forth between them, then beamed in recognition.

"Hey, guys! What are you—whoa!"

He cut off as Cyan ducked from an incoming blow and spun away. Lyohniy widened his eyes and leaned back, causing the blow to miss his chin by mere inches. He took a step back, planted his leg, rocked his hips forward, and threw his right arm into a hard hook. The blow connected with his opponent's jaw, and the Faunus grunted in pain as his feet slid out from under him. Lyohniy twisted his mouth up into a smirk and glanced at Cyan for approval. Neither her nor her brother seemed to notice, each busy with their own portion of the fight.

He frowned, "Yeah, okay. Talk later."

Vermilion clenched both his arms together and blocked an overhead strike with a grunt, "Ngh. Good idea."

Cyan squared off against her opponent in a wide defensive stance with her right arm raised in front of her and her left held perpendicular to her waist. Her opponent sneered, balled his hands into big meaty fists and raised them in front of him. He then took a long sliding step forward and punched. Cyan waved away from the blow and fired two quick jabs at his chin with her left hand, both of which found their mark. The Faunus shook his head out, ground his teeth, and lashed out again; this time with an overhead hammerblow and a right cross up. He was fast, but not fast enough. Cyan shifted to the side for the first blow, blocked the other one clean, and responded by throwing her body into a straight shot at the other side of his chin that spun her opponent almost in a full circle before sending him tumbling to the ground. She smirked back, and slid back into her defensive stance, almost daring him to stand up again.

The one that Lyohniy previously knocked to the ground shook his head, stood up, then charged at him again, attempting to fasten his hands around the lapel on Lyohniy's duster. The instant they made contact, Lyohniy knocked them down with a pair open-palm slaps. He then responded with a quick left and right hook, and leaned to the side, thrusting his leg into his opponent's solar plexus. The Faunus exhaled in a cough and stumbled briefly, but managed to keep enough of his footing to throw his arm forward into a haymaker punch. Lyohniy slipped in close, caught his opponent's blow in the crook of his arm, and slammed his fist into the the area just below the rib cage, then twisted the joints of his wrist and arm into a lock, and flipped him onto his back.

Two of the remaining White Fang members turned on Vermilion and attempted to flank him, but he managed to keep them both in his field of view by retreating partially down an alley as they closed the gap. They attacked him as a carefully coordinated pair, alternating their offensive flow in a furious rhythm. And they were repelled as a pair. Vermilion whipping his arms about in elaborate wide circles, twisting and rolling his upper body away from blows that weren't parried. As he found the rhythm, he gradually began picking shots between attacks, each of his strikes alternating between his two attackers. Once their own rhythm was broken, he went on the offensive. He stepped inside an overhead roundhouse kick, crouched and spun on his heel, sweeping the first opponent's leg out from under him and sent him crashing to the ground. He whirled to the other, catching an incoming punch with both hands, shifted to the side, and drove his heel into back of the Faunus' knee. He felt the joint buckle, and spun back around in front, following up with a palm strike to his upper chest, slamming him hard into the wall where he slumped unconscious.

Vermilion spun to check on Lyohniy and his sister, and was immediately greeted by a large heavy fist that crashed into the bridge of his nose. His eyes blurred in a flash of pain, and he turned the impact into a backwards handspring, landing in a low crouch. The last member of the White Fang assailants stepped forward, his lips twisted into a snarling grin as he popped the knuckles on his right hand. Vermilion cautiously rose to his feet as Cyan darted to his side, and considered this last opponent intently. He stood several centimeters taller than his companions with a much wider frame, and his face glowered maliciously behind his mask. Undaunted, Lyohniy and Cyan rushed forward.

"No, wait!" Vermilion pleaded, but again was too late.

Being the faster of the two, Cyan reached him first. She leapt at him, aiming a snap kick at his head. The Faunus moved far more quickly than his size would suggest he were capable of, and smashed a hammer fist into her back. She bucked her head backwards in pain and landed in a heap on the ground behind him. With a groan, she managed to plant her palm on the pavement and slowly turn herself over to just in time to see the vague outline of a huge leather boot aimed at her head come rushing forward. She rolled over several times in the direction of the building just in time to avoid the boot, which thudded to the ground a fraction of an inch away from her skull. Lyohniy took the opportunity to move into striking range, barely ducking in time to avoid the backswing of his previous attack. He then pummeled the Faunus with a series of ferocious blows to the abdomen, ending with a powerful uppercut that knocked the Grimm mask from his head. He allowed himself a tight grin and a victorious chuckle, as the Faunus slowly turned his head forward. The blow had barely unsteadied him, and he revealed that the mask was concealing a pair of ram's horns that curved outward from the front his scalp. He then favored Lyohniy with a sick toothy grin.

"Uh oh." Lyohniy said, dryly.

Ram smashed his forehead into Lyohniy's, toppling him to the ground in a daze. Cyan winced at the sound of the impact, and shook her head, trying desperately to clear it. From her position on the ground she got her first real look at the person Lyohniy had been defending. It was difficult to make out anything through her blurred vision, but she was fairly certain it was a he, and that he could have easily run away by now if he had wanted to. Instead, he chose to stay and was watching the scene unfold with a sense of bewildered fascination. Before she had time to wonder about anything else, she felt a hand wrap around her arm and lift her gently to her feet. She looked up to see her brother standing over her, his eyes glued to the Faunus in front of them.

"He's tougher than he looks." Vermilion said.

Cyan rubbed at the small of her back, "No kidding."

Lyohniy managed to roll to his knees and push himself back to his feet, He rubbed his eyes, trying to focus his vision through the pain, "Any ideas?"

"Divide and conquer?" Cyan replied, as if asking for approval.

Both Lyohniy and Vermilion blinked in surprise and exchanged quick glances. Lyohniy gave a little shrug, as if to convey that he didn't have any better ideas, and Vermilion nodded in Cyan's direction. She pulled in a quick breath, and exhaled it fast. They were ready.

Vermilion went in first, striking a careful blow aimed at Ram's midsection, he blocked it, and they exchanged a furious series of strikes and parries while Lyohniy and Cyan moved in from opposite sides. After working another opening in Ram's defense, he inhaled sharply and cocked his right arm back, preparing for an open palm strike. Immediately, Cyan recognized the stance and focus. Vermilion narrowed his gaze, focusing on his point of impact. He thrust his palm into his opponent's chest, and released the kinetic energy stored by his aura. Ram ground his stance, and even though the force of the blow pushed him a good foot and a half backwards on the concrete, he managed to stay standing.

Simultaneously, Lyohniy and Cyan both aimed a straight punch at either side of Ram's head. He sneered, and ducked his head just low enough to direct their incoming attacks at each other. It was Cyan's turn to smile, as she turned her forward momentum into a crouch, driving her shoulder into the back of Ram's knee. Lyohniy carried through his attack normally, moving safely over their opponent and tumbling to standing on the other side of him.

The blow was enough to knock Ram off his balance, but not off his feet. He grunted in pain from the impact and whirled in anger towards Cyan, lashing out a huge grasping hand. His fingers wrapped around her long hair, yanking her out of her recovery. She yelped in surprise and pain, and tried to pry the fingers away. In response Ram pulled up sharply, causing her feet to slip out from under her. At once, the grip was released, and Cyan looked up from the ground to see Vermilion had brought his hand down on Ram's wrist in a swift chop. The Faunus recoiled in pain, and Lyohniy used his lapse in focus to slam his clasped hands down on the back of his neck. Ram staggered again, but refused to go down. He lashed out with his fist in a burst of speed that caught Vermilion off guard, knocking him back, and then kicked his leg backwards, hitting Lyohniy squarely in the chest.

Cyan and Vermilion recovered first and rushed at Ram again. They attacked from opposite sides in a carefully practiced pattern, forcing their opponent on the defensive. They alternately landed strikes around his defenses; a low kick to the knee, a blow to the jaw, an elbow strike to the ribs. As Ram's anger grew, so did his carelessness, and more of their attacks started to slip through.

"What was that?!" Cyan demanded of her brother, "I thought your Semblance had been storing up energy for weeks!"

"Give me a break!" he shouted back, blocking a blow with a grunt, "I only discovered it last month. I'm still practicing."

"You really couldn't have hit him any harder?" she exclaimed, dodging another heavy-handed punch in frustration.

Vermilion swayed back in defense again, "If I wanted to kill him, sure!"

Cyan rolled her eyes, darted away from another blow, and then speared Ram's throat with her fingertips, quickly stepping aside as he gasped for breath to allow Vermilion to move in. He hammered Ram with a pair of punches to the jaw, and then ducked a return hook, and slipped around behind him. Lyohniy stepped forward in his place and thrust a strong heel kick into the center of Ram's chest, knocking him backwards into Vermilion, who wrapped both hand around his waist.

Lyohniy reached up, gripped his fingers tightly around the horns, and yanked down hard while simultaneously leaping up and driving his knee into Ram's face. He released his grip when he connected, and Vermilion tightened his arms around Ram's waist, using his upward momentum to haul him into the air. He arched his back, lifting the larger man into a suplex that slammed him into the pavement. The muscles in Vermilion's arms rippled from the impact, and he released his grip then quickly rolled away. Ram stirred, groaning in pain, and Cyan leapt at him, driving her heel down on the top of his forehead. The blow landed with a cracking impact, and Ram slumped unconscious.

Cyan stood over him, panting heavily, and watched him until she was absolutely certain he wasn't going to stand up again. Slowly, she closed her eyes, and collapsed up against the side of the nearby building. Vermilion rolled and managed to push himself up to one knee, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. Lyohniy stood across from them, resting his hands on both knees, taking deep breaths and forcing his breathing to return to normal. Cyan regarded him with a level gaze. He looked up, and smiled broadly when his eyes met hers.

"Hey." he said.

She kept her expression neutral when she replied, "...hey."

Several seconds of silence followed. The only sounds were from distant traffic, and their own breathing.

"Dad says, 'hi'." Vermilion said at last.

Cyan nodded, "And your mom wants to know if you're coming home tonight."

Lyohniy offered the two of them a humorous grin. Then he started chuckling, which soon melted into full laughter. Cyan snickered once, and then found herself unable to keep from joining him. They looked down at Vermilion, who shook his head, his mouth already spreading into a grin. The laughter continued for a long while before slowly dissipating.

With her adrenaline fading, Cyan became acutely aware of the throbbing in the back of her head. It felt like half of her scalp had been torn out by the roots. She tried to rub the pain away, and collect her hair into anything besides the shamble it had become.

"I told you you should cut that shorter." Lyohniy said, pointing a finger at her long, loose hanging hair.

"Oh, shut up." she shot back at him, "What was this all about, anyway?"

"Well, I was taking a shortcut home," Lyohniy gestured towards the figure prostrated on the ground, "and I saw the five of them knock this poor guy out of an alley."

Vermilion blinked, "And you just jumped in? Without having any idea what was going on?"

Lyohniy replied, "What? He needed help."

"These guys are White Fang!" Vermilion said.

"I don't like bullies." Lyohniy shrugged.

While they bickered, Cyan walked over and knelt down next to the figure on the ground. He— she was still reasonably certain it was a he— wore ragged pants, well worn shoes, and a grey hooded sweatshirt with ripped sleeves. The clothing had sustained several years worth of wear, which made her wonder if he ever wore anything else. He held his right arm tight against his abdomen, and was using his left to keep himself pushed up to a sitting position. His breathing was coming out in short bursts, suggesting he was still terrified. Understandable, considering what just happened. She leaned her head to the side, and his eyes flicked upwards to meet hers. There was a definite sense of terror in them, but it seemed to abate somewhat when he looked at her. He was young, possibly their age or a year older, with a dusky complexion, and light gray eyes. There was something else about him...

"Is he okay?"

Cyan broke the gaze, and looked up at Vermilion, "I don't like the way he's holding his arm. It might be broken."

Lyohniy grimaced, "Well the way he got tossed to the ground, I'm not surprised. Looked like they were roughing him up pretty bad. Those other guys were also breathing hard when I got there, so they might have been chasing him a while."

The boy started shuddering, as if from intense cold, and Cyan gently put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to meet her gaze again, and his shudders subsided. She narrowed her eyes, and slowly moved her hand towards his face. When he didn't react, she took hold of the hood and gently pulled it down, revealing a smooth mat of iron gray hair. There was a gentleness to his features, and faint traces of fear behind his eyes. She then glanced up to note two tall, wolf-like ears protruding out of the top of his head. He must have kept them flattened when he had the hood up.

"He's a Faunus." she said quietly to the others.

"What?" Lyohniy said incredulously as both he and Vermilion took a step forward.

Vermilion pushed back a few stray locks of hair that had fallen across his face, "But the White Fang are a Faunus right's group. Why would they attack one of their own?"

Cyan looked back up at the other two, but saw nothing but questions on their faces. She sighed, "We should get him to Dad."

Vermilion nodded, and exchanged a glance with Lyohniy, who said nothing, Looking back down at the Faunus, Cyan asked, "What's your—"

Too late, she noticed that his eyes were fixed on something just below her chin. In the blink of an eye, his other hand shot forward and fastened around her pendant. Before she could even articulate a word of protest, he had jerked the pendant from around her neck and sprung to his feet.

"Hey!" she finally managed to shout at him. But he was already a fair distance down the sidewalk.

Lyohniy pursed his lips together, and waved his hand sarcastically, "Yeah, you're welcome, buddy. You take care too."

"He took my mother's pendant!"

At that, Lyohniy's eyes widened in a blaze of anger. Without another word, the three of them started after him.


	4. Chapter 2

They ran, following the Faunus down deserted side streets, leaving the sounds of city traffic behind them. The tall brick apartment buildings trapped nearby air currents, and the fierce winds whistled about the group as they moved between them, bringing the bitter chill of a late winter afternoon. Cyan ground her teeth and pushed forward. She was fast, but long runs weren't exactly her strength, and she had hoped to overtake him with her initial burst. When that failed, she tried to focus her attention on regulating her breathing, but was finding it difficult to think of anything but her anger. As they ran, and the gap between her and the Faunus began to slowly widen, she felt the anger start to boil over.

Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned her head to see Lyohniy starting to move past her. His body churned in practiced motions, and his breath came out in a furious rhythm. The seconds ticked by, and he steadily closed the gap between himself and their rescuee. The Faunus flicked a glance over his shoulder, and pushed himself harder. But, try as he might, he could not increase his lead. His frantically searching eyes settled on a gap between the buildings on his left.

"Vermilion, the alley!" Cyan shouted in warning.

Lyohniy surged forward with another burst of speed, "I got him!"

He leapt forward, spreading his arms wide. Cyan locked her gaze on the Faunus again, and saw a flicker of movement.

When Lyohniy reached the Faunus, he wrapped his arms around... nothing.

His mouth fell open from shock, and unfurled his grasp just in time to plant his palms on the corner of the building he was headed towards, preventing himself from smacking headlong into it. The three of them stopped and whirled around.

"What the—" Lyohniy started to say in confusion, "I had him!"

"Where did he go?" Cyan exclaimed, more from surprise than anger.

"Up there!"

The two of them spun and followed Vermilion's pointed arm up to the fire escape attached to the building. The Faunus sat on on the rungs of the third story ladder, gripping tightly onto the railing, and gasping for breath. He then pulled himself up, and started his slow ascent.

"How the—" Lyohniy began again.

Cyan quickly interrupted, "Head down that way and get ready to cut him off."

He responded with a curt nod, his brow furrowing in determination, and started down the alley.

She turned back towards her brother, "Can you shake him loose?"

"I think so." he nodded in reply, "Stand back."

She did, and Vermilion lowered himself into a fighting stance at the bottom of the fire escape. He took a few steadying breaths and pulled his right arm to his side again, palm facing outward. He then took aim, circled his arms into a wild flourish, and thrust a closed fist into the wrought iron metal. The fire escape thundered from the impact sending a tremendous clang echoing down the alley, and Cyan was at once glad that the building seemed to be abandoned. The Faunus lost his footing as the metal frame shuddered violently underneath him, and tumbled backwards over the edge. His grasping hand found the railing, stopping him from falling directly to the ground, but he seemed unable to pull himself up with only one good arm. As he started to look around, Vermilion whirled and struck the railing again even harder. The Faunus was unable to keep his grip and began to plummet towards the ground. He twisted his body in the air, taking a split second to note the positions of the three below him, and promptly vanished from sight.

Cyan's eyes widened, but before she could speak the sound of an impact in front of her drew her attention. The Faunus was crouched on the ground, gasping for breath and seemingly struggling to stand. The same time Cyan and Vermilion started in his direction, he dragged himself up from the ground and ran away from them towards the other end of the alley. Lyohniy shifted his weight back and forth and waited. Cyan smirked.

_Alright, _she thought, _let's see you get out of this one._

If the Faunus hesitated at all when he saw Lyohniy standing there waiting for him, it didn't know in his stride. Lyohniy widened his stance in preparation, slowly curling the fingers of his right hand into a fist. The Faunus ran faster, apparently heedless of what was waiting in front of him, or simply not caring enough to consider him an obstacle. Lyohniy waited until he was less than a meter away before he made his move. He swung his right arm in a high arc over his head, and crouched to one knee, smashing the fist into the ground at his feet. A thin, translucent circular bubble form around him rapidly spreading outwards until it encompassed the width of the alley, and an equal distance overhead. The walls on either side began to buckle slightly where the shield pressed into them, and the whole area glowed with a greenish tint.

If the Faunus noticed it, he wasn't deterred. In the same instant that Lyohniy had created his shield, the Faunus leapt through the air at him and disappeared once again.

"Woah!"

The circular shield rippled from sudden impact, and Cyan tried to peer through it to see what caused Lyohniy's startled reaction. She could him seem to stumble and lose his footing. As he did, the shield flickered and quickly dissolved from sight. Vermilion and Cyan closed the distance to his position and found Lyohniy propping himself up over the unconscious form of the Faunus.

"What happened?" Cyan asked.

"I don't know." Lyohniy huffed out, his effort with the shield seemingly taking more of a toll than he thought it would, "It was like, I blinked and suddenly he was in here, right behind me."

"It must be his Semblance." Vermilion said, "Some kind of teleportation."

Cyan nodded. That would seem to explain things.

"That's something different." she said in disbelief.

"It's rare, but not unprecedented." Vermilion replied, "It looks like he tried to go around your barrier, but misjudged the distance and collided with it from the inside."

Lyohniy managed to catch his breath, and glanced down at the Faunus below him, "He doesn't look so good."

Cyan knelt down, and touched two of her fingers gently to his neck, "He's exhausted. He must have overexerted himself trying to get away from the gang. With a Semblance like that it's the only way they would catch him."

Her eye's moved down to the arm still held at his chest. Vermilion helped her upturn his body, and she saw the chain of her pendant still clutched in his hand. His fingers loosened reflexively when she touched them, and the pendent fell easily from his grasp. She breathed a sigh of relief and refastened it around her neck as she stood. She frowned down at him as Lyohniy and Vermilion watched her carefully, saying nothing.

She met her brother's gaze with a look of guilt, "What?"

"He still needs help." Vermilion said sternly.

"Fine." she said with a curl of her lip, "Let's bring him with us."

Lyohniy got to his feet and knelt back down between them, facing the alley exit to the street, "I'll carry him."

Vermilion and Cyan lifted the unconscious Faunus, taking care not to put any pressure on his injured arm. They lifted him onto Lyohniy's back, and he leaned forward wrapping his arms around the Faunus's legs. He was heavier than he looked, and Cyan had exerted more than a little effort to move him. If Lyohniy had noticed the weight at all, it didn't show. He stood up smoothly, carried the Faunus piggyback-style out of the alley, and the three of them headed home. Cyan kept her eyes glued to his unconscious form the whole time.

It was about ten minutes later that Vermilion finally said something to her about it, "If he did overextend his Semblance, he's going to be unconscious for hours."

Cyan didn't look at him as she responded, "No point in taking any chances."

"Chances?" he said, "Bringing him with us was your idea."

"Well, I'm full of bad ideas." she snapped back, "Besides, that was before..."

She trailed off, and Vermilion turned to look at her more closely. She turned her head to the side, hoping to hide her expression from him.

Vermilion kept his tone cautiously neutral, "I don't know why he did that either." he said, "But he must have had a reason."

"Like being an opportunistic thief?" she said, not really looking for an answer.

"Is that what you saw back there?" Lyohniy inquired, doubtless referring to the gang of five Faunus surrounding him.

Cyan chewed on the thought. She was the first to get a real good look at him after the gang had been dealt with. Despite what just happened, her instincts told her he wasn't a bad person. And they hadn't let her down before. Slowly, she shook her head in reply, "No."

"Maybe we should hear his side of things then." Lyohniy said.

Vermilion nodded in assent, "I'm sure any of us would want the same..."

His words cut off, and he swayed on his feet. Cyan caught him by the shoulder before he lost his balance.

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

He placed a hand on his forehead, and steadied himself against the building with his other, then closed his eyes and nodded, "Just a little tired. I'll be okay."

Lyohniy glanced over his shoulder with a triumphant grin, "Told you so."

Vermilion looked indignant, "It's a work in progress."

Cyan gave the two of them a questioning look, "What?"

Lyohniy started snickering, which earned him a scornful gaze from Vermilion, "He said I would pass out the first time I tried to use my Semblance in actual combat."

"Oh." Cyan replied, and looked at the ground dejectedly.

"Close enough, anyway." Lyohniy said, still grinning.

"Well some of us haven't had almost a year to practice." Vermilion said.

Lyohniy continued laughing, but made no further comment. Cyan sighed loud enough for both of the others to noticed. Vermilion regarded her thoughtfully, then nodded in understanding.

"Don't worry about it." he said to her, "I'm sure you'll figure out your Semblance soon."

Cyan glared up at her brother, "That's not what I was thinking."

"Of course not." Vermilion said, but she could see he was working hard to keep a grin off of his face.

"...I hate it when you do that." she said with a slight growl.

They walked in silence until they left the city behind and reached the suburbs. The paved streets and sidewalks gradually gave way to grass fields and tree-lined roads, and the sounds of bustling traffic fell away to chirping birds and the gentle caress of wind billowing through treetops. Cyan had spent the time preparing a reasonable explanation for where they had been, and was soon ready to field any questions from the neighbors as to why they were carrying an unconscious Faunus home with them.

Much to her surprise, the roads leading up to her neighborhood were void of activity. No one walking the fields, no cars passing them by, and even the traffic from the nearby Atlesian airstrip seemed surprisingly sparse. It didn't take her long to realize something was seriously wrong.

"Where is everyone?" she asked.

Vermilion blinked as if suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings, and made a concerted effort to take them in, "I'm not sure."

"What's that?" Lyohniy asked, nodding in the direction he was facing.

Up ahead, they could see what appeared to be faint wisps of smoke trailing up over the horizon. The twins exchanged nervous glances, and began to quicken their pace. When they crested the final hill, they at last saw the reason for the deserted streets. Several dozen people, accounting for nearly every house within walking distance, were surrounding her home. They were waiting just behind a perimeter that had been established by a score of police officials and emergency response vehicles. The house itself was almost entirely engulfed in flames.

The three of them stopped. Cyan's breathing grew shallow, and she felt her throat tighten, strangling off any attempt to vocalize what she was seeing.

"Oh no." she heard Vermilion start to say behind her, "What—"

He didn't have a chance to finish before Cyan dashed down the hill towards the house. Vermilion didn't waste any more words, instead following closely on her heels.

"Wait up!" Lyohniy shouted, and struggled to keep pace with the weight of his passenger.

At their top speed, it didn't take the two of them long to reach the edge of the crowd. Cyan desperately pushed her way through the throng of people until she ran headlong into one of the police officers trying to keep the crowd out of harm's way. He placed both hands on her shoulders and stopped her forward movement, pushing her back so he could look her in the eyes.

"Woah, behind the line." he said, in a rough authoritative voice.

Vermilion reached her side and she she looked up at the officer, her eyes full of fear, "Dad. Where— where's my dad?"

"Dad?" he inquired, "Is this your house?"

Vermilion took a step forward and put one hand on the officer's forearm to get his was fear in his voice as well, but it was far more subdued than her own, "Yes. Is Dr. Athelward okay?"

The officer frowned deeply and glanced over his shoulder. Cyan felt her insides twist into knots.

"We think he's still inside." the officer replied with dismay, "But we—"

Cyan didn't wait for him to finish. She slipped free from his grasp and ducked around him. Before he could even shout a warning to the nearest officer, she was past the perimeter and more than halfway to the patio.

"Hey!" the officer shouted in vain, "You can't—"

His momentary lapse in focus allowed Vermilion to slip by him on the other side. The officer managed to get a hand around his arm, but the boy easily wrenched himself free.

"Hey! Don't go in there! The Dust could blow at any time!"

A look of terror crossed Vermilion's features, and he raced even harder to catch up with his sister.

Cyan reached the patio and bounded up the steps. Flames licked the interior walls, lashing outward from the downstairs windows. Nearby emergency responders propelled water at the blaze in a largely futile attempt to keep it under control. From the looks on their faces they seemed mostly content to let the fire burn itself out. The front door was still standing, almost entirely ablaze. She quickly slipped out of the jacket that she wore as part of her school uniform, and balled the heavy fabric over her forearms. When she reached the door, she raised her arms in front of her and dove headfirst into it, shattering the weakened wood to splinters. Immediately, she was greeted by the conflagration that raged just beyond it. The fire surged around her, crackling in an almost deafening roar. The heat was incredible, and made her dizzy enough to want to pass out. She tucked her body, and turned the dive into a forward shoulder roll, ending in a crouch in the middle of the living room.

"Dad! Dad, where are you?" she frantically called out, and was almost immediately brought to her knees by the smoke that coiled about the room.

She pressed the jacket over her mouth, wiped the sting away from her eyes, and scanned the room. He wasn't here. Off to her right, she could see the table collapsed in the dining room, and behind it the stairs leading to the second floor. She turned her attention forward to the kitchen, took several rapid steps forward and prayed he was in there. If he was upstairs, she might not have time to find him, and almost certainly wouldn't have enough time to get him out.

She turned the corner past the arch leading into the kitchen and felt her heart sink again. Her father was lying on the ground, face down, just to the right of the wall stove, with an overturned chair sprawled on his back.

"Dad!" she shouted over the roaring flames.

He didn't move. She bolted to his side, fell to both knees, grasped him by the shoulder and shook violently, but again elicited no response. She grabbed at his shirt sleeve, turned him over onto his back, and began pulling him away from the table. It was then that she noticed the lack of rise and fall from his chest. Hysteria began to grip her, and she desperately felt around his chest to see if anything might be broken. When she felt a warm sensation she pulled her hand back, and it came away stained red with blood.

_Oh no, no, no…_

"Cyan!"

She looked up from the floor, shielding her eyes from the impossibly bright glare of the flames, and saw Vermilion in the living room headed her way. He moved quickly across the floor to reach her, but with another roar of flames the doorway to the kitchen suddenly fell to the ground in front of him. He cursed, and slid to a halt, allowing himself to deliberately fall backwards so as to not to run into the debris.

"Vermilion!" she shrieked, her voice reaching a fever pitch, "He's not breathing!"

"Take him out the back!"

Cyan whirled from her position on the ground towards the direction of the back door. The door had collapsed from it's frame, and beyond it she could see the outside awning had fallen into a pile of burning timbers. There was no way through it.

"It's blocked!" she tried to call back, but the flames had intensified so much that she barely heard herself over them.

"You have to get out of there!" she heard him shout again, "The Dust!"

Her eyes widened in fear, and her gaze fell upon the stove sitting against the wall. While the fire consuming the house maintained a distinct orange hue, the flames spewing out of the oven door were a bright yellow. The Dust lines hadn't been closed off, and the particles that provided heat for the stove were igniting from the intense flames. Any more instability and they might…

Her brother's panicked voice rose over the endless roar of the inferno, "Cyan! CYAN!"

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Cyan rose from the ground. She looked at the room around her, looked down at her father lying motionless on the ground, and looked at her brother nearly eclipsed by the flaming debris that blocked the doorway leading out from the kitchen. She closed her eyes tightly, and a cry of rage and frustration escaped from deep inside of her.

The sickly yellow flames in the oven suddenly burst outwards into a devastating plume of fire and energy. The impact lanced across her chest, blowing the breath from her lungs. The debris from the fallen ceiling was thrust out of the room, and Vermilion dove away from the blast, rolling to the side once he hit the ground to avoid the potentially deadly fragmentations. Though much of the fire had been extinguished from the force of the shockwave, the Dust that had just been ignited would provide more than enough fuel to bring the house down around them.

But it didn't.

Vermilion struggled back to his feet and made his way to the now-cleared entrance to the kitchen. He saw their father lying on the ground, and he saw Cyan standing over him. No, that wasn't right. She wasn't just standing, she was straining; raised up on the tips of her toes, her arms stretched as far out to her side as far she could manage. Her body was surrounded by a translucent blue aura, as the fires around her rapidly burned down to cinders. Her eyes were forced closed as the blast flowed steadily over her, the yellow flames shifting in color to match her aura. The flames were soon dissipated entirely, and the aura that surrounded her glowed brightly for several more seconds before fading. When it was gone, so was any trace of the explosion. Like it hadn't even happened.

At last, she released the tension in her limbs, drawing in several long, labored breaths. Slowly, she turned her head to look in her brother's direction. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she was struggling to keep them open.

"Cyan…" he said in disbelief, and took a few steps towards her.

She bowed her head, seemingly looking down at her father again. Then she dropped her arms to her sides and collapsed to the ground. Vermilion hurtled across the kitchen in time to catch her before she landed on the hard ceramic floor. He fell to the ground with her, cradling her limp body gently in his arms. She could hear the sounds of the police running into the house, and was determined to stay awake, locking her gaze on her father. But it was hard. She was so tired…

Her brother's voice echoed in the back of her mind as she surrendered herself to the blissful peace of darkness.


	5. Chapter 3

Cyan didn't have many memories from her early childhood. She knew that she had been very frail, and had spent her earliest years in a hospital. Dad had told her a lot of things about those days, like how amazed the doctors were by her intellectual development, her tenacity, and even her ferocious temperament. All she could remember with any clarity was the cold. She had vague impressions of plain grey walls, sliding doors, and enclosed rooms, but the sensation of cold was more enduring than anything else, even sounds and smells. She hated the cold, but even more she hated being inside. Classrooms without windows made her uncomfortable, as did the enclosed combat arenas, no matter how large they were.

The earliest memory she could recall was the first time her dad took her home. A simple crash bar opened a door that poured a blinding glare over her face. She raised a hand to shield her eyes, and marveled at the brilliance that shone down upon her. That was the first time she ever saw the sky. It was also the first time she ever felt the wind. It was still a little cold, but somehow the sensation on her skin made it bearable. Even somewhat enjoyable. She squeezed her dad's hand tightly in delight. It was the happiest day of her life.

Cyan continued to squeeze as the memories faded from her consciousness. She opened her eyes with deliberate caution, and was greeted by the comforting glare of a late afternoon sun. She had to squint for a moment, her eyes having grown used to the darkness. She looked around the room, fighting off some stiffness in her neck. It was maybe ten meters square, plain white walls, with a large window to her right. The bed she was lying in was firm and uncomfortable, with a thin blanket to keep the cold away, and it elevated her head and upper body to an optimal position for easy breathing. The air was odorless and neutral, lacking any discernible qualities. She looked down at her hand, and found it clutched tightly to another one. She followed the other hand up to find her brother sitting in a chair at the edge of the bed. He smiled gently at her when she met his eyes.

"Hey." he said, softly.

She gulped once before she replied, returning some of the moisture to her throat, "Hi."

Vermilion looked up, and Cyan followed his gaze to the other side of the other side of the bed to where Lyohniy was standing, A look of relief crossed his face, and he gently touched her shoulder.

"Welcome back."

A wild torrent of thoughts raced through her mind. The smell of smoke, the intense heat of flames, images of Dad lying on the kitchen floor…

She inhaled sharply, and shuddered, slamming her eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling out of them.

"Hey, hey, easy. It's okay." Lyohniy reassured her, gently squeezing her shoulder. His hand was strong and warm, and she felt it ease the anxiety out of her.

"You're awake. That's good."

She blinked her eyes open and focused her attention on the unfamiliar voice. It was a woman of average height and unremarkable features, with a pair of round, thin-rimmed glasses resting on the edge of her nose. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, done up in a neat bun, and she seemed to be wearing a long white coat over an emerald green blouse. She was also holding white, partially transparent tablet— definitely a scroll— which could only contain Cyan's medical chart.

Vermilion nodded towards the woman without looking away, "Cyan, this is Dr. Carroll."

The doctor nodded, affecting a perfectly professional smile. For some reason it almost gave Cyan the chills to look at her.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better." she said in a pleasant tone, "Do you know where you are?"

She bit her lip and let her eyes drift towards the window, "A hospital."

Vermilion frowned, and cradled her hand in another gentle consoling embrace.

"That's good." Dr. Carroll said, and touched a few entries on the scroll, causing the image to shift and change.

Cyan spent a second or two calming her nerves enough to speak, "How long was I asleep?"

"A day." the doctor answered primly, and the scroll image changed again to display a long stream of mirrored text next to a small portrait, "What's the last thing you remember?"

With another tremble, she said, "I was in my home. There was a fire, and… there was an explosion."

"That's right. Anything else?"

Cyan closed her eyes again. An image of her father lying on the ground crept to the forefront of her thoughts, but she shook it away, "No."

Dr. Carroll gave her a consoling look, "That's alright. Considering what you went through, some minor memory loss is to be expected."

"C'mon, doc", Lyohniy said impatiently, "is she gonna be okay?"

"I should think so." the doctor replied with an amused grin, "She's in excellent physical shape, her vitals are stable, her aura is strong and responding well to treatment."

She touched another part of the scroll and then, seemingly satisfied, closed it before continuing, "You were exposed to an enormous amount of highly charged Dust particles. But you were able to use your aura to absorb and dissipate the energy."

All three of them stared at the doctor in astonishment.

"Why wouldn't she wake up?" Vermilion asked.

"Well a certain amount of fatigue is normal for someone using their Semblance for the first time." Dr. Carroll said, matter-of-factly, "If you overextended it as well, that would account for the extreme level of exhaustion you've experienced."

"Semblance?" Cyan asked.

The doctor tilted her head as if in surprise and nodded, "That's correct. I assumed from your level of physical fitness that you were undergoing Huntress training."

"Yes but…" Cyan started to say, before trailing off, "I mean, I…"

"If it's any consolation, it surprised us here, too, young lady." Dr. Carroll replied with a light chuckle, "I've never seen anything quite like it before."

They all fell quiet for a moment, after which the doctor to make a polite noise as she prepared to excuse herself, "Well, I suggest you just try to relax and get some rest. In a few hours you should start feeling better. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

Cyan nodded and thanked her, and then she left. When door closed, Cyan's eyes happened upon the adjacent bed, and she was somewhat surprised to see the occupant was awake and looking directly at her. He had been so quiet she didn't even realize there was someone else in the room. She noted that his arm had been carefully wrapped and set in a sling. When she saw the thick gray hair capped by two tall furry ears, her face darkened in furious recognition.

"You!"

She tried to sit up, but the pain in her stomach stopped cold. A stifled groan managed to escape her lips, and Vermilion and Lyohniy took her by each shoulder to help her settle back down into the bed.

"Hey, relax." Vermilion said.

She scowled at the Faunus, and took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. For several uncomfortable minutes, silence reigned in the room once again.

"I'm sorry."

Lyohniy turned to stare at the Faunus, "'Sorry'? After nothing but hours of unbroken silence ever since you woke up last night, now you're sorry?"

Cyan looked at him askance, "Why are you sorry?"

The Faunus bowed his head, "I'm sorry... if any of you were hurt because of me."

The three of them exchanged glances, and Lyohniy offered a casual shrug, "Eh, don't worry about it."

Cyan leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling, "This wasn't because of you."

After a second, she turned her head towards him again, "So what do we call you?"

The Faunus gave her a long, calculating stare, as if trying to see the inner-workings of her brain.

"Roan," he said at last, "Roan Shikari."

Cyan slowly nodded, "Roan."

"My name's Vermilion Athelward," her brother said, and gave a nod to the others, "This is Zee Lyohniy, and Cyan Mireille."

A puzzled look came over Roan's face, "Mireille and… Athelward? Are you not siblings? You look so much alike."

The room grew eerily quiet as both Lyohniy and Vermilion looked in Cyan's direction, not daring to speak.

"We are." Cyan confirmed, "Different mothers, same father."

The words tasted slightly bitter as they made their way through her strained throat, and the uncomfortable silence returned. Again, Cyan was the one who broke it first.

"Why did you take my pendant?"

Roan lowered his head again, as if in shame, "It looked valuable. I thought I could sell it for enough money to leave the city."

"You could've just asked." Lyohniy said.

He turned to face him, "I was afraid. You said you wanted to bring me to your father."

Vermilion said, "Afraid of what?"

"I am a Faunus." he said, seeming genuinely surprised, "I assumed he was law enforcement."

"He's a doctor." Cyan said with a harsh edge to her voice, "Was… a doctor."

Roan's features melted in a sudden flash of guilt, "Your father was in the house fire."

Cyan took a slow breath, her lower lip quivering. Then she briefly closed her eyes and nodded.

He met her gaze again, revealing a deep level of understanding, "I'm sorry. I also lost both of my parents when I was still very young."

Now it was Cyan's turn to look shocked, "How?"

Roan's eyes grew very distant, as if he had left the room and traveled somewhere far away, "It was a long time ago. A Faunus civil rights march in a small town on the other side of the kingdom. A fight broke out between the humans and the protesters. They died defending me."

At once, Cyan felt the anger evaporate from her chest, "That's horrible."

"It was a long time ago." he repeated, and blinked several times as if coming out of a trance.

"I guess that's how you got involved with the White Fang." Lyohniy reasoned, maintaining a dour countenance, "But why were they after you like that?"

Again Roan seemingly became lost in thought, as if he had difficulty believing his own words, "I… betrayed them. I was trying to leave."

"And _that's_ how they responded?" Vermilion said, stunned.

He nodded.

"How did you betray them?" Cyan asked.

The room once again fell silent apart from their breathing. Roan looked uncomfortably down towards the floor, the quiet pressing down on all of them as though it were a tangible thing.

"Look, the past is the past." Lyohniy offered, "The point is you wanted out. That's all that really matters, right?"

"True." Vermilion said, "And I can understand why. Even some of the staunchest Faunus rights supporters see them as nothing but a violent extremist group now."

Vermilion and Cyan exchanged affirming glances. Lyohniy did have a point. The only thing the truth would do is satisfy her own morbid curiosity.

"Why did you help me?" Roan asked.

Lyohniy looked at him and shrugged, as if the answer should have been obvious, "You were in trouble."

"You had to know who they were, but you still helped?"

Lyohniy folded his arms, "Of course."

"But what if you had known what I was? What would it matter then, the Faunus fighting amongst themselves—"

"We would have helped anyway." Cyan cut him off.

Vermilion nodded as well, "No one deserves what they were doing."

Roan looked around at all of them and nodded, "Thank you."

For a brief instant, Cyan thought she saw the faintest trace of a smile cross his lips. It was the first time she had seen one on him, and it made her glad. Lyohniy had always gone on and on to her about good deeds being their own reward. She never really understood what he was talking about until now.

The door to the room opened again. Dr. Carroll returned, with a very excited visitor following close behind her.

"Oh, thank goodness you two are okay!"

Mrs. Zee all but bounded across the room to the bedside next to where Vermilion was sitting. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around them— one for each— and pulled them into a massive bearhug. It hurt to sit up, but at that moment Cyan was too content to care.

She placed both her hands around Cyan's shoulder and looked her over carefully, "How are you feeling?"

Cyan managed a weak smile, "Much better now."

Mrs. Zee smiled back, though her expression remained pained, "I am so sorry, child. But I want you to know we're here for you. Both of us.

She tilted her head in the direction of her son, who affirmed with a nod, Cyan's smile brightened, and she felt the pain deep inside her begin to fade.

"I have everything arranged for you." Mrs. Zee said, "You and Vermilion can have the spare upstairs bedroom. Everything that we could recover from the house has already been moved in."

Cyan froze briefly, and felt a flurry of emotions surge through her. She hadn't even thought about where she was going to go, so concerned was she with everything else that had happened. The basics hadn't even had time to cross her mind. And before she could worry about them, those concerns were gone. Instead of being overwhelmed by the anguish of what she had lost, she was profoundly grateful for what she had gained. It was a strange and wonderful sensation.

She settled back down on the pillow, wiping a hand at the corner of her eyes, "Thank you."

Mrs. Zee turned towards Roan, who had been watching the scene unfold in silence. He regarded her warily, unsure of what to say.

"Now then," she said to him, "have your parents been contacted yet?"

Roan blinked several times in confusion before responding, "No, I… that is… my parents are gone."

A look of pensive guilt crossed her features, "I was afraid of that. Do you have any friends you can stay with?"

His eyes again fell to the floor, "...No."

"Well that won't do at all." Mrs. Zee said, "In that case, you'll just have to stay with us."

His jaw fell open in surprise, "That's not necessary. I'll find somewhere to go."

She pointed a finger at his sling, "Not like _that_ you won't!"

Lyohniy nodded in agreement, "He can have my room. I'll use the couch downstairs until we can figure something else out."

Mrs. Zee beamed proudly at her son, "Good, that's settled then."

Roan continued to protest, "Really, you don't have to trouble yourself with—"

"It's a good thing it's not any trouble, then." she interrupted, "It might be a little crowded, but it will be nice to have a full house again."

"But I—"

"Young man," she placed both hands on her hips and leaned over the bed to glare at his eyes, "I will not have you sleeping on the streets. You _will_ rest up somewhere warm and safe, at the very least until you have recovered! Is. That. Clear?"

He visibly twitched his ears with each word in the last sentence, and averted his eyes down towards the floor again before he replied, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." she said as she stood back up and turned, "How soon can they go home, doctor?"

Dr. Carroll frowned, "I'd prefer it if Cyan could stay overnight again for observation. But they should both be able to leave once they are sufficiently rested. I can have you fill out the discharge forms now, if you like."

She nodded and said brief farewells to everyone, then the two of them left the room.

Once they were gone, Cyan felt a tinge of fear creep up her spine as a sudden thought occurred to her. She turned towards Roan and said, "Are you sure about this? If the White Fang came after you once, won't they still be looking for you?"

"Don't worry about it." Lyohniy reassured her, "The police were here while you were still out."

Roan nodded in agreement, "The White Fang were trying to keep their presence a secret. Now that the authorities know they are here, they'll have to alter their plans. They won't have time to look for me."

Cyan exhaled a held breath, and asked, "What were they planning?"

"I'm not sure." Roan said, "No one that I knew was told anything except where to go."

Abruptly, he half-closed his eyes and his mouth stretched into a yawn. It seemed he hadn't quite recovered his strength yet from yesterday's exertions. Cyan could sympathize.

Vermilion gave his sister's hand one more gentle squeeze, and then rose from his chair, "You both should get some rest. We'll come back when you're ready to leave."

He started in the direction of the door. Lyohniy paused to look down again, and both he and Cyan exchanged smiles before he headed for the door as well. Vermilion flicked the light switch on his way out, turning the room ghostly dim with the monitors providing just enough illumination to prevent it from plunging into total darkness. Roan took a deep breath and settled himself down under the covers, evidently dozing off rather quickly.

Cyan stared upwards at the ceiling, too exhausted to uncomfortably fidget, but not tired enough for sleep. The room grew intensely quiet, the only sounds coming from her and her roommate's steady breathing. After spending several futile minutes trying to use that lull herself to sleep, she leaned over to the bedside table next to her, picked up the scroll that had been left there by the hospital staff, and pressed the unlock button. The small translucent display screen flickered to life. She browsed the collection of electronic literature until she found a weapons catalog and began thumbing rapidly through the images, occasionally pausing to give several of them more careful consideration.

Several hours later, Mrs. Zee pulled her van up to the driveway of her two-story house. It was a little larger than the one Cyan had lived in and quite a bit more modern. Where her old house had been a traditional design, with much of the portions that had fallen to ruin being replaced with wooden replicas of the originals, Lyohniy's house was built on a solid red brick foundation. It had a similar patio, but that had been added on long after the original house had been built. The car rolled to a stop, and Vermilion helped his sister out of the back passenger seat, carefully supporting her weight as they moved up to the front door. Lyohniy similarly moved to assist Roan, but he glided gracefully out of the back in spite of his cast and sling.

The inside of the living room was furnished in warm and inviting colors, large cozy-looking recliners and sofas, and a thick insulated carpet. Cyan looked around the room with a solemn expression. The floor was absent of the usual wooden creaks when she walked across it, as well as the familiar groans from the house settling at night during the stiff winter breezes. She felt her mouth turn into a small frown. This was going to take some getting used to.

Lyohniy gestured towards the surroundings as though he were giving a tour, "Well it's not much, but it's home."

Everyone smiled at that. Except for Roan, who studied the rooms intensely like a... well, like a frightened animal.

"Relax, man." Lyohniy said to him.

Roan gave him a look of bemusement, "I am calm. I always examine the places I stay."

Lyohniy raised his eyebrows and looked at the other two. Vermilion shrugged in reply, and Cyan couldn't think of anything to say.

"It's just you and your mother here?" Roan asked.

For a split second, a crack formed in Lyohniy's unflinchingly pleasant demeanor. He looked towards the stairs leading up when he responded.

"Yeah. My dad was a Huntsman. He was killed on a patrol when I was just a kid. A group of Grimm were headed towards the city. He led them away."

The pain of recalling the memory was evident in his features. He hooked a thumb into the duster around his shoulders before continuing, "This was his. He left it to me."

Roan nodded in understanding, "You're training to be a Huntsman to honor his memory?"

"Yeah, something like that." Lyohniy replied, "He used to train me. Basic stuff, y'know? Sometimes when I train, it's like, in a way he's still here."

Mrs. Zee returned from the nearby closet with a sad smile on her face, "I'll always remember how proud he was. I begged him to take that teaching position at the academy, but he wouldn't have it."

Lyohniy returned her smile with one of his own, "Heh, oh yeah, I remember."

She turned her face into a facetious scowl, "He would say to me, 'Honey, who's going to be out there protecting the kingdom if I'm stuck at some desk giving lectures and grading papers?'" she shook her head fondly, and gave Lyohniy a little hug around his shoulders.

Vermilion smiled, and glanced at Cyan, who smiled along with him. Secretly, she hoped he couldn't actually read her as well as he claimed he could. Her smile was hollow and empty, worn only because she thought that she should. She knew it was selfish of her, but even though she was standing in a room full of people with firsthand experience of what she was going through, she never felt so alone. She didn't want their pity or their understanding. The more she realized that she didn't know what she wanted, the more frustrating it became.

The reminiscing was interrupted by the smell of something wonderful drifting into the room from the kitchen, and Cyan's stomach wasted no time in letting her know precisely how long it had been since she had eaten anything. With a polite chuckle, Mrs. Zee headed in the direction of the kitchen, while Lyohniy reached for a nearby cupboard and gathered dishware to begin setting the table.

Roan began to follow, shifting his sling closer to his chest, and asked, "Is there anything I can help with?"

Mrs. Zee called back from the kitchen, "You can sit down and relax. You're a guest here, not a servant."

He stopped in his tracks and turned his gaze towards a chair, "...Yes ma'am."

_He catches on quick,_ Cyan mused to herself

After a mostly quiet dinner, they headed upstairs to turn in for the night. The air inside the spare bedroom was old and stale, like it hadn't seen use for many years. A single shadeless window occupied the far wall, offering an impressive view of the surrounding neighborhood. Against the adjoining wall was a closet and bureau already full of their clothing. Two small beds were placed on opposite walls, with several cardboard boxes stacked in front of them. Cyan removed the lid to the box labeled with her name and discovered several of her belongings inside of it. The acrid smell of smoke wafted up to her nose, and the memory made her stomach turn. Near the top of the box, just under some books, was an old, cinnamon-colored, spiral-ringed binder. One edge was slightly curled, and there was a large burn spot on the back cover, but other than that it had survived relatively unscathed. She flipped it open and leafed through the pages inside. Roughly the first quarter of them were filled with pencil sketches of various locales, each one more intricately detailed than the one before it; first a tree line road with a long wooden fence and a lone house that she recognized but couldn't quite place, then an empty meadow with a lone windmill on the horizon, then the Atlas City skyline viewed from her front porch. As she turned the pages, the locations in them grew closer and closer to the present.

"I haven't seen that in years." Vermilion said over her shoulder.

She glanced briefly in his direction, then turned back to the sketchpad without replying.

Vermilion continued, "Not since before Dad enrolled us in Herald."

"I don't know why I stopped." she said.

Vermilion could only shrug, "Dad always said you had a good eye. You sure do love the sky, though."

She paused at that remark, then looked through the drawings again. He was right. Every single one of them was a landscape. She wondered why she had never noticed that before.

"I miss him, V." she said, fighting back the tears that were forming in her eyes again.

He pulled her into a hug, "I know. I do too. But he wouldn't want us to just shut down and stop living. All we can do is mourn him, and then move on."

Cyan opened her eyes staring beyond the wall over her brother's shoulder. A part of her wanted to say something, but her doubts were getting in the way. The uncertainty of events, of how Vermilion would react, and even of herself was tearing her apart inside. After a few fitful moments clinging to his shoulders, she ground her teeth in resolution. She couldn't stay quiet any longer.

"No." she said, "We can also find out who killed him."

Vermilion placed both hands around her shoulders and leaned away. Consternation played across his features as he stared into her eyes.

"What?"

"This wasn't an accident, Vermilion. Dad was murdered."

He took a step away from her, found the edge of the bed with his palms, and sat down on it, staring forward into space, "How do you know that?"

"When I turned him over," she said, looking down at her hand. The sensation was so vivid it may as well have happened within the last few seconds, "there was blood all over his chest."

Vermilion considered that in silence for a moment, "It could have been from anything. Maybe from falling debris. Maybe your memory hasn't sorted itself out yet."

"I know what I saw." she insisted, even as she felt her hopes dying in her chest, "This wasn't an accident."

He rested his head in his hands, blowing a breath out in a slow, measured exhalation, "The police are still investigating. They'll have more information tomorrow."

"And if I'm right?" she asked.

When his gaze looked up to meet hers, she could see a fire in it. A deep, smoldering fury behind his flawless, rational composure.

"We'll find who did this. And make them answer for it."


	6. Chapter 4

The next day at school was quiet, and completely absent of the conflicts that arose as a result of her regular interactions with the rest of the student body. Over the years she had endured a number of torments with regards to her aptitude for the studies she was involved in. Most of them, at least as far as she was concerned, were spawned out of jealousy. Rather than take it in stride, she chose to fight back. Viciously. This only served to escalate problems between her and her peers, leaving her with very few people she considered acquaintances, let alone friends. Today the usual verbal spars were gone, replaced by the quiet whispering of rumor and supposition. People stopped talking when she entered a room, and they offered meaningless condolences and polite nods. It was like a stage production, or a very carefully choreographed dance. They would offer the pretense of sympathy, and she would pretend to be grateful for it.

The silence was almost deafening.

Normally, at this time of day she would meet up with Lyohniy or Vermilion and start to head home. It also occurred to her that Roan might be with them. He seemed curious about the combat school, and Mrs. Zee had gotten permission from the headmaster for him to visit, and possibly be evaluated. It would be unusual for someone of his age to start attending the school, but Cyan recalled something regarding advanced placement exams that might allow him finish early if he tested well enough. These and other thoughts whirled around her mind as stood off to the side watching the last last class of the day exit the combat arena. Once they had all left, she took a deep breath and walked towards the double doors. Two weeks, starting today.

She pushed one of the doors open and let it close behind her with a soft echoing click. The sole remaining occupant of the room was a strong-looking man of middling years dressed in a simple gray shortsleeve shirt and comfortable white slacks. He had large hooked nose, and long black hair that fell just beyond of his shoulders with a similarly long wispy mustache and beard, all of which Cyan guessed had been grown in an act of rebellion against a slightly receding hairline. Supposedly he had been an accomplished Huntsman in his youth, but Cyan had never known him as anything other than Instructor Jared, armed combat education specialist. She really didn't like him. He was overbearing, and possessed of an antiquated sense of propriety, always insisting on absurd formalities like having the students call him "sir". He'd been collecting the wooden practice weapons left scattered around the ring when the sound of her entrance got his attention. He turned around and paused when he got a good look at who it was.

"Cyan." he said politely, as though he was surprised to see her.

She reached the edge of the arena and stood at attention, crossing her hands behind her back, "Reporting for drills, sir."

She might not like him, but she could at least learn to respect him, if nothing else than to make the next two weeks more bearable.

He gave her a measured glance, then replaced the quarterstaff he had just retrieved to the collection bin, "It wasn't necessary for you to come today. I'm sure an exception could have been made if you need some time, given your situation."

His tone surprised her. Not because it was condescending or judgemental, but because it wasn't. He seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being. It was the first time in a long time that he wasn't yelling at her or scolding her for something. It was actually rather off-putting. She considered his words for a while, not entirely sure what to make of them.

"I appreciate that, but I'd rather get to work." she replied, then hastily added, "Sir."

He quirked his lips into a slightly amused expression, and nodded, "I understand."

Cyan stepped into the center ring and reached towards one of the heavy oaken training weapons in the shape of a broadsword. The instructor held up his hand to her, "Not just yet. I thought we'd start with something else today."

She tilted her head to one side in curiosity, "Like what?"

Jared moved a small, waist-high, circular table to the center of the arena. He then picked up a brown leather suitcase and set it down beside the table, "Based on what you said to the headmaster, it's possible that you discovered your Semblance yesterday."

"I," Cyan began, but found herself lost for words as the images flooded her thoughts, "...that is, I don't… I'm not sure."

Jared nodded thoughtfully, "Let's make sure."

He opened the case, revealing a number of sparkling Dust crystals in a variety of colors, precisely arranged on dark foam padded insulation in three neat rows. He retrieved one and pushed the lid on the case back down.

"Instead of starting general instruction right away, today is going to be about you." he declared pointedly. Cyan felt a peculiar wave of anticipation wash over her, and unconsciously drew herself up to her full height as she waited patiently for him to continue.

"Ordinarily, when attempting to verify a Semblance we would try to recreate the conditions which might have first triggered it. However, since that approach might prove," he paused and cleared his throat, "…hazardous… we need different one."

He held out the crystal to her in his palm, "What can you see?"

She peered at the glowing red object, and the swirling energy that lay dormant inside of it, and began rattling off as detailed a description as she could, "It's a Dust crystal, eight centimeters in length, refined but uncut, containing the base element of fire."

"Good" he nodded, and placed it in the center of the table, "Close your eyes."

She hesitated for a moment, but did so.

"Now what do you see?"

Cyan took a deep breath and focused her remaining senses on the room. The ventilation system hummed quietly overhead, the waxed floor gave off a faint odor she likened to fresh paint, and there was a slight chill on the air that made her uncomfortable. She waited for as long as she could stand it.

"Nothing." she said.

"…Huh."

She blinked her eyes open again to see Jared gently stroking the hair on his chin with a puzzled look on his face.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

He stiffened, and looked towards the table, "Process of elimination."

Cyan blinked again, "You don't, do you?"

"Do you?" he challenged, placing both hands on his hips.

In fact, she did not, and could offer no response other than to scowl and fold her arms across her chest.

"All right," he said, "Let's try something else. Close your eyes again."

She stared up at him, maintaining her dubious expression.

"Cyan..." he warned, fixing her with a level gaze.

She gave another sigh, but obeyed.

"Good." he began to circle slowly behind her, "Now, relax, and empty your mind."

"Gee, I don't know if I can, sir, how do you manage it?_" _she said through a smirk.

"Don't get cute. Just pay attention." he softened his tone and continued to circle to her left, "Relax, and let your thoughts drift back to yesterday."

She frowned, and fidgeted uncomfortably in place. A pair of strong hands fell upon her shoulders, bringing a strange calmness with them that held her steady.

"Picture everything that happened when you first used your Semblance."

Slowly, she began to lose her awareness of her surroundings as the memories returned. The deafening roar of the flames, the intensity of the heat, the awful smell of charred wood. As she fell still, she felt the hands leave her.

"Remember how you were feeling."

She grimaced as the image of her father made it's way to the forefront of her thoughts. Suddenly, she became acutely aware of the aetheric energy in front of her, like a low buzzing sensation that set her teeth on edge.

"Focus, and remember the aura incantation: For it is in passing that we achieve immortality..."

Hearing the words spoken aloud seemed to give them a sort of strange power. Cyan heard herself continue, as if in a trance, "...through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all."

Jared urged her to continue, "Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul..."

"And by my shoulder," her eyes flew open, "protect thee."

An enormous twisting column of energy boiled through the air towards Cyan. Instinctively, she extended her right hand to intercept it, palm facing outward. The energy surrounded her in a blinding cascade of translucent blue light, and in the next instant it was gone.

Cyan fell to her knees, gasping for breath, before Jared could reach her. The feeling of dizziness was overwhelming, and she fought to keep her stomach settled. After a moment of greedily gulping in air, she soon recovered enough of her strength to stand.

With a hand under each shoulder, Jared gently helped her up, "Are you okay?"

She swallowed another breath, and nodded, "Yes."

He took her head in both his hands and peered at her closely. Once he was satisfied she wouldn't collapse again he moved back over to the table. Steam rose from the center of it, and the finish on the surface it was slightly charred as though the crystal had discharged, although if a Dust crystal that size really had been set off then there wouldn't be anything left of the table, let alone the floor surrounding it. Where there once sat a vibrant red crystal there was now a dark brown husk.

Jared stared at the crystal in silence for a long while, seemingly unsure of what to make of it.

"What happened, sir?" Cyan asked him.

"Well," he said slowly, "It seems that you absorbed the propellant energy of the crystal. But instead of internalizing the energy, you are gradually dissipating it over time. I think that's what makes you so tired."

That seemed to make sense. Even as they discussed it she was already starting to feel better.

He reached out to pick up the crystal, and it promptly crumbled to powder in his fingers.

"Dust... to dust." the words came out from the instructor as a barely audible whisper.

Cyan turned her head quizzically, "What?"

He smiled softly and shrugged, "Well, that is what happened." he said, displaying the remains of the crystal on his fingers. He then frowned down at the floor, "I think that's enough for today, though. Let's move on to martial instruction."

"But I feel fine now." she protested, "I can keep going."

"Of that I have no doubt. However," he nudged suitcase with the tip of his shoe until it sprang open. A small cloud of smoke billowed out, followed by several more distinct trails of steam in neatly arranged rows, "it looks like this lesson is already going to cost a bit more than I had originally planned."

Cyan could feel herself flush with embarrassment. Jared gave her a pacifying look and said, "Control comes with training. Give yourself some time. Practice—"

"'—is the key to everything.'" she said along with him, rolling her eyes.

"Both in combat and in life." he added with a hint of admonishment as he approached the barrel containing the training weapons. Cyan's expression immediately fell to dismay again when he pulled out the facsimiles of a longsword and kite shield and tossed them in her direction. She caught them with a sigh, then fished her arm through the strap and gripped the sword tightly. It was an awkward and unbalanced thing, and its weight made it difficult to wield properly. This was apparently deliberate, as the extra weight would purportedly increase muscle development. Jared's hand explored the contents of the barrel a bit more before he selected the wooden replica in the shape of a long handled bearded axe. He inspected it briefly and then, seemingly satisfied, strode across the to the opposite side of the painted circle on the floor marking the edge of a ring.

"What's the problem now?" he asked, noting her sullen expression.

Cyan looked at the equipment in her arms and replied, "What's this supposed to accomplish?"

He held the axe straight overhead in a stretch, "Nothing is more important than the basics."

"No, what I mean is," she said, rolling her shoulders into her warm up stretch of her own, "what's the point in drilling techniques that I'm never even going to use?"

He tilted his head to one side as he swiveled his waist back and forth, "How do you know that? I thought you hadn't decided on a project yet."

She regarded her equipment with a look of disgust, "Well I know it won't be _this._

Instructor Jared didn't respond with words. Instead he whipped the axe in an overhead circle and sent it speeding down towards her. She barely reacted in time to lift the shield and deflect it, but blow was still powerful enough to knock her off balance. Jared spun on his heel, throwing nearly the entirety of his weight behind the next swing. Cyan brought up the sword and tried to meet the attack head on, but the force of the impact knocked her sword arm away, leaving an opening for the instructor, which he took, driving the bottom of the grip into her midsection. She slid backwards and fell to one knee, trying to draw her breath back in.

Jared hoisted the weapon up to rest on the back of his shoulder, "All knowledge is an asset. As a Huntress, anything you know could one day save your life, or the lives of those you are sworn to protect."

Cyan glared angrily at him and pushed herself up from the ground, then held the shield up in front of her and charged forward. Jared braced the axe across the front of his body and absorbed her impact, but she was able to maneuver just enough under his guard to throw his weapon upwards. She lunged, thrusting the sword at his exposed midsection, but he deftly spun again, causing her to shoot past him. Whirling back around into a defensive crouch, she winced as the axe hammered into her shield again, distracting her enough to allow him to hook the curve of the blade around her ankle, which he dragged out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground. Before she could stand, he pointed the top of the shaft at her throat.

"You never know what will happen during a mission. You might not always have your preferred weapon available to you."

He stepped away, allowing Cyan to stand again, and then tossed the axe, grip first, through the air in her direction. She caught it with a slight growl of frustration, and likewise tossed her sword to him, then pulled her arm free of the shield and threw that to him as well. He secured the weapons and took up his stance, waiting for her to make the first move. They clashed again, Cyan throwing as much of her body as she could manage into her offensive flow, replicating many of his earlier movements in a vain attempt to land a solid hit. The shield move quickly and precisely in his grasp, intercepting each of her attacks. Try as she might, she could find no gaps in his defense.

Then she got an idea. Off of another failed attempt, she shifted her weight forward, deliberately leaving an opening. Jared took it, and brought his sword arm down at her head in a wide arc. In that instant, she pushed back and brought the axe up at an angle that would cause the blow to glance off to the side, giving her the perfect opportunity to strike. That opportunity never came. In the split second that Cyan made her move, so did he, pulling back his feint, and thrusting his shield arm squarely into her abdomen. It landed with enough force to throw her backwards through the air and send her crashing to the floor. She pushed herself up to one knee, planting the axe head firmly on the ground to stay upright.

Jared lowered his weapons and rolled his shoulder in a stretch until it popped, "In the most dire situations, you will not have time to think. Honing your instincts and reflexes now will mean the difference between success and failure later."

Cyan bowed her head as she drew several labored breaths. Her muscles were sore, her palms hurt from the impact of the weapons, and her ribs ached from the blows she had taken. The instructor, on the other hand, didn't even look winded. He calmly walked over to the barrel and replaced the sword and shield, drawing out two four foot wooden poles in their place. He tossed one at Cyan and took the other one in both hands, holding it at the ready in front of him.

"Again."

For the next hour they continued this process, until they had worked with every weapon available. Though the initial burst of activity had left her nearly exhausted, she was surprised to find herself growing accustomed to the strain. As the minutes ticked by she grew more used to the fatigue, until she barely even noticed it any more. The wooden weapons clacked together, sending echoes throughout the arena, punctuated by the shouts accompanying more powerful swings, and grunts of pain each time an attack succeeded. Cyan couldn't help but notice that she was making far more of those grunts than he was.

He had just finished knocking Cyan away again by jamming the haft of his halberd below the twin curved dagger-shaped weapons she was holding when he stood up from his stance and planted the weapon on the ground.

"Alright. That's enough for one day."

Her mouth dropped, partially from surprise, and partially in frustration, "Not yet, sir, I can keep going!"

Jared pointed up at the wall clock, "You only have to stay an hour each day. Save some of it for tomorrow."

"But—"

The sound of him jamming the wooden spear against the bottom of the barrel cut her off, "Go home. Rest."

It was all she could do to not cave in to an overwhelming desire to run up and punch him in his big, stupid face. Instead she averted her eyes and said through bared teeth, "Yes sir."

She let the daggers clatter to the ground, spun on her heel and scooped up her backpack from it's spot on the floor near the exit, then left without another word. She paused to glare at the door after it closed behind her. Instead of heading for the courtyard, she stormed down a nearby hallway and found herself in an empty training room. Thick padded mats covered over two-thirds of the floor, and various weightlifting equipment filled the rest. She dropped her bag to the floor, and, snatching a pair of protective gloves off the nearby wall, began to take out her irritation on the heavy bag in the corner of the room. Her fists crashed into it again and again, occasionally mixing in a strong kick. Even after she worked up a healthy sweat, she continued to pound on the bag, only stopping to catch her breath when it felt like her arms were going to fall off.

"Wow. Sure hope you never get that ticked off at me."

Cyan whirled around to face the source of the voice, and saw Lyohniy propping one of the doors open, with his arms crossed in front of him, his expression equal parts impressed and amused.

"Ticked off? What makes you say that?" she asked, heavy on the deadpan.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Oh I dunno. Maybe because after a vicious street fight, running into a burning building, followed by spending a full day in a hospital bed, most people would try to take it easy for a while."

"I'm not most people." she said, turning around and laying into the bag again, "Besides, if I don't get into at least one argument with an authority figure each day, I'll turn back into a pumpkin at midnight."

He chuckled, "I almost believe that."

Cyan didn't share his amusement. Pausing to catch her breath again, she said over her shoulder, "Did you come here for a reason?"

"Besides looking for you?" he pushed off the door and walked into the room, "That depends. You happy punching that bag, or do you wanna go a few rounds with me?"

Cyan slowly turned her head to stare at him, and saw he had already pulled his duster from around his shoulders, and fetched another pair of padded gloves from the wall.

"Sparring?" she asked.

"Yeah." he affirmed, and pulled off his duster, followed by his school uniform jacket, revealing a white sleeveless shirt underneath. It surprised her how much muscle he had developed around his arms and shoulders. He pulled a pair of gloves over his hands and stepped onto the mat, then raised his right arm to his chin, and extended his left towards her in a closed fist. After a moment's consideration, she stepped across from him, assumed a similar defensive posture, then bumped his fist with her own. They circled each other slowly, throwing a few probing jabs, more intended to gauge defense rather than inflict damage.

"So, the first day of drills went well?"

Cyan tried a simple combination against him, which was deflected away cleanly, "Yep."

Slowly the circling stopped, and she felt the calm flow over her in a wave. She tapered her senses, shutting out everything around her and focusing all of her attention on Lyohniy. As the force of their attacks steadily grew in intensity, they came closer to landing as well. Cyan rolled and swayed, finding a comfortable defensive groove to keep her out of harm's way.

"He beat you again, huh?"

She frowned and hooked her right arm into a wide arc. The punched found it's way behind his defense and connected with Lyohniy's jaw, knocking him several steps back before he could recover from it. He rubbed at it with his hand and worked his mouth into a slow circle, as though he was making sure it was still attached.

"I'll take that as a 'yep'."

"I would have had him if we had kept going."

They made another brief, though unsuccessful, exchange before he said, "Maybe he was worried you were pushing yourself too hard."

Cyan shuffled forward finding her way past an incoming punch and landed an uppercut on his chin. She lifted through the attack and wrapped her hands around his shoulders, driving her knee into his midsection. He grunted, and tried to push her back, but she simply stepped to the side, using his momentum to throw him to the ground in a heap. He rolled to a sitting position to see her standing over him, her hands placed on her hips, and a triumphant smirk on her face.

"Maybe he just didn't want to lose!"

Lyohniy took a second to catch his breath and then asked, "Why is it always about winning and losing with you?"

She creased her brow at him, and offered him her hand, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He took it, and she hoisted him back to his feet, "It means that sometimes it's about learning things."

They squared off again, trading blows back and forth in a practiced rhythmic series.

"Maybe sometimes there's nothing worth learning." she said.

He allowed himself a little smile, "And maybe you don't know as much as you think you do?"

She swayed out of the way of his left hook and rolled her eyes, "Oh great, so now you know what I'm thinking too?"

"Something like, 'why did he abandon me' right?"

Cyan froze. For a split second her mind completely shut down. She forced herself out of her stupor just in time to avoid the first hurtling towards her, and wobbled briefly before regaining her full balance.

Lyohniy looked her in the eyes and said, "I mean, sure, you know he didn't, but that doesn't help you not be mad about it."

Their next exchange came a bit slower than the others, but the strength behind the attacks somehow increased.

"But not nearly as angry as everyone else makes you." he continued, "Suddenly, everyone cares, everyone wants to be your friend, everyone wants to help, and everyone 'understands'. But they don't understand. They can't. And worst of all, they never, shut, up."

The words struck at her more harshly than any blow he had made, and the both of them gradually dropped their stance. She got what he was trying to do, but he was still wrong about one thing.

"Just stop. You have no idea know what I'm going through."

He scoffed, "Oh I don't, huh?"

"No, you don't!" she shouted, "Your dad died a hero! It was his choice, his duty, and he carried it out. Mine was…"

She felt the tears start to well up once again, and turned away in disgust. She was so sick of crying.

"Taken?" Lyohniy supplied, "Guess what? So was mine."

Cyan felt her lip quiver as she said with a quiet anger, "It's different."

"I'll give you that." he said, "At least I know what kind of monster killed my dad."

The words hit her like a tidal wave, and again she stopped in her tracks, spinning around to look into his eyes. At first she considered the possibility that it was an accident of phrase, that he didn't really know what he had said. But his eyes were hard and resolute and supremely confident in their assertion. He _knew_. But how…?

It came to her in that same split second, and she looked down at the floor and sighed, "Vermilion told you."

Lyohniy nodded, "He was worried about you."

"So that's what this is about?" she said, covering her festering anger with a carefully measured layer of calm, "You're supposed to talk some sense into me?"

"Heck no."

She blinked and looked up at him again.

"I mean," he nervously rubbed at the back of his head, "yeah, I think that's what he wanted. But I'm just here to be here. You want to talk about it? We can talk. You want to go hunt someone down? I've got your back."

She couldn't think of anything to say.

He pointed a gloved hand in her direction, "Just promise me that whatever you decide, you'll let me help, and not try to go running off by yourself. Okay?"

A smile crept onto her lips, and she could feel the anger and frustration start to fade away, replaced by a gentle comfort. She nodded to him once and replied, "Okay. I promise."

After a moment's pause, she added, "Thanks, Lyoh."

He chuckled and held up his hands, "Stop, I'm blushing."

The sound of an opening door drew her attention, and she glanced over to see Vermilion enter the room, with Roan following close behind him. Lyohniy pulled the gloves from his hands and waved. Roan acknowledged him with a polite and simple nod, and went back to examining the room, much as he had Lyohniy's house last night. Vermilion nodded at him as well but remained strangely tight-lipped. Cyan might have been imagining things, but he seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact with her.

"Hey guys!" Lyohniy said in all his usual exuberance, "How'd it go today?"

Vermilion glanced at Roan, "Not bad. We're just finishing up the tour."

Lyohniy beamed with delight, causing Cyan wonder how so much jovial spirit could possibly be contained within a single person.

"So?" he said to Roan, "What do you think?"

"It's nice." Roan replied.

Lyohniy nodded expectantly, but when Roan said nothing else, he let his arms fall to his sides, "Well shoot, man, try to rein it in some."

Roan looked confused, which only served to make Vermilion and Lyohniy snicker.

"How did the evaluation go?" Lyohniy asked.

"It went well." Roan said.

"Ha. 'Well', he says." Vermilion said with a roll of his eyes, "He tested right out on the practical knowledge exam. Nearly at Academy level. Instructor Jared wouldn't approve without the physical exam, but once you're out of that sling I doubt you'll have a problem."

Lyohniy nodded wordlessly, apparently very impressed.

"Where did you learn all of that, Roan?" Vermilion asked, still shaking his head, "I thought you said you'd never attended a combat school."

"I haven't." he replied, his eyes taking on a gleam of quiet reflection, "But there are dangerous places in the world, outside of the kingdoms. You have to become strong to survive."

Cyan continued to stare at her brother, but he either didn't notice or wouldn't acknowledge it.

"Vermilion…?" she said in a prodding tone.

He finally looked at her as everyone's gaze was drawn to him. His eyes flicked back and forth between each them, "…Yes?"

Her piercing gaze turned into a glare, and she folded her arms in front of her.

Vermilion sighed, "Alright, already."

He shifted the weight of his backpack uncomfortably, then said, "We told you yesterday that, while you were still asleep, the detective in charge of investigation came to visit us in the hospital. He promised to tell us as soon as he knew anything. I got a message from him today."

"And?" she asked impatiently.

"And… they're still investigating." he said, and then grudgingly admitted, "But according to the _very_ preliminary report from the medical examiner, there were no outward signs of smoke inhalation."

An abrupt surge of anger swept over Cyan, and a cold silence descended upon all of them. Lyohniy looked around at the faces deep in thought, seemingly out of the loop, and said, "Which means… what, exactly?"

Vermilion's expression turned grave, "It means there's a chance that Dad wasn't alive when the fire started."

"So I was right." she said.

"It looks that way." he consented.

Roan, who up until now had been watching quietly, said, "Right about what?"

The others exchanged nervous looks with Cyan, who nodded to them.

Lyohniy said, "Cyan thinks that fire might have been set deliberately."

Roan seemed uncertain, "I don't understand. What was it about your father that would make you think that?"

"I think I know." Vermilion said, looking at his sister, "When we were kids, Dad used to move around a lot."

"Like when I first came home," Cyan affirmed, "we moved about a month later."

"I can't believe you remember that. We were only five." Vermilion said in amazement, "But yes, that's right. We also moved twice in the year before we started attending school here."

"Did he ever say why?" Roan asked.

The siblings glanced briefly at each other and both shook their heads, a note of regret crossing their features.

"We never really thought anything of it." Cyan said, "Times were hard, and we never had much money."

"But now," Roan said, following her line of reasoning, "you think he might have been running from something."

She nodded, and stared up towards the ceiling as if looking into the distance, "I want to know who did this. I want to know what it was that someone thought was worth his life."

"We both do." Vermilion said, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Lyohniy nodded as well, "I made a promise, didn't I? Count me in."

"And me."

They all turned to Roan in surprise.

"This could be dangerous." Cyan said, "I don't know what we'll find, or how long this will take. I don't even know where to start. You don't have to—"

He held up his hand to stop her, "You all saved my life, and helped me even after I tried to steal from you. If there is anything that I can do to repay you, I will do it."

"All right!" Lyohniy grinned and gave Roan a hearty slap on the back. His eyes widened slightly, and he let out a quiet whimpering groan as he shifted his sling.

"Sorry." Lyohniy said sheepishly.

Cyan looked at the three of them and smiled. It was the first time since yesterday that she didn't feel totally helpless and alone. What had Dad always said to her? With friends you can count on, nothing is insurmountable. Of course, she had no real plan, nor had any idea how to go about making one. But she also supposed that perhaps she didn't need one yet. Whatever she might find, she— no they— all had to be ready for it. For now, there was no point in worrying about what she couldn't control. What she could do was focus on taking things one step at a time.

"Well I'm starving. Wanna head out?" Lyohniy said.

"You go ahead, I have one more stop to make." Cyan replied, before scooping up her backpack and heading for the door, "See you at home."

She had reached the end of the hallway before Vermilion caught up with her, "Wait up. Where are you headed now?"

"The library." she said over her shoulder, without slowing down.

Vermilion's expression lit up in surprise, and he followed her in silence through the school halls. Almost everyone had gone home for the day, but since students were allowed to remain for independent study until sunset, the campus maintained a near constant faculty presence. After a few minutes, they reached a set of arched double doors made out of freshly polished wood, pushed them open and headed inside.

"Does this mean you finally decided on something?" Vermilion asked.

"Maybe." Cyan frowned, "I'm not sure. Nothing seems to, I don't know, fit."

As they entered the enormous two-story room, they exchanged pleasant acknowledgements with the elderly clerk sitting behind the front desk. They passed through the sprawling shelves of the archive, filled to overflowing with books on countless different subjects. Towards the back of the room they came upon the most recently added section: close to a dozen more shelves, chiseled from solid stone, with square dividers carved into perfectly arranged rows, each one containing a scroll. Not the handheld tablet devices that had become so popular in the recent years, but actual rolls of parchment. Each one was a schematic for a different type of weapon. They had been added as part of the new program that required all students to forge their own weapon before they could graduate. The scrolls themselves were replicas of the real parchments that had once been used before the more modern methods of information storage had been developed, presumably to reinforce the traditional nature of the endeavor.

"That sounds about right." Vermilion said to her, as he casually ran his fingers along the shelves, "Your weapon will dictate where you focus the rest of your training. In a way it's like deciding your own future. It's not always an obvious choice."

"Which one did you pick?" she asked, hoping for at least some inspiration.

He paused and examined the shelves carefully, until his searching fingers found one slot in particular. He pulled out the parchment and handed it to her, unable to keep the grin off of his face. She examined the contents and arched an eyebrow at her brother.

"Kind of old-fashioned, don't you think?"

His face faulted, "I prefer to think of it as 'classic'. Besides, I am going to make some modifications to it."

She sighed and handed it back to him, and he carefully replaced it to it's position on the shelf. He did have an odd appreciation for the classics. It should suit him well. But that still didn't help her at all.

"Well?" he asked, the anticipation evident in his voice, "What about you?"

Cyan continued to walk forward until she reached a small square table, one of several and each just large enough to sit one person, situated at the end of the row of shelves. For the time being, the faculty didn't want the scrolls to be removed from the library, so they included this area for students to study them here at their leisure. She set her backpack down and pulled out the sketch pad that had been recovered from the fire.

"I've been looking at those things ever since they arrived here." she said, opening the pad to the next blank page, "Plus any catalog I could get my hands on, and I've still come up with nothing."

She then took out a pen, and several precision drawing tools, "So I'm going to take Instructor Jared's advice, and try a different approach."

Vermilion eyed her curiously, "Anything I can do to help?"

"Can you…" she said, briefly trailing off, "pass me that scroll behind you? Fifth shelf on the right, row three, second column from the left."

Her right hand was already moving on the pad, and her left was stretched over her shoulder behind her, fingers open and waiting. Vermilion blinked in confusion for a moment, then spun and looked around behind him. He didn't get more than a single step across the floor before she spoke again.

"My right."

He stopped and stared at her. She hadn't moved but for the smooth fluid gestures from the pen in her hand. He turned the corner of his mouth into a half-smile as he headed in the other direction. After a few seconds of searching he found the requested scroll and handed it to her.

"Thanks." she said, without turning around, and began studying it intently while continuing to scribble on the pad.

Vermilion was just about to leave her when she spoke again.

"And the one from the third shelf on the left, fifth row, last column on the right."

He turned back around and sighed. It was going to be a long night.


	7. Chapter 5

Cyan wasn't quite sure when it was that she had fallen asleep the night before, but she must have at some point because a gentle nudging sensation was bringing her back to consciousness. She groaned uncomfortably as she stirred awake and her eyes flicked around the desk. The pen she was using had fallen from her hand, and four sheets of paper from her sketch pad were laid out beneath her, along with a stack of several dozen more pages covered in handwritten notes. The jostling grew more intense, but she managed to restrain herself from swatting at it, at least until she could look at who it was. Her neck creaked from stiffness as she lifted it from the desk and she saw Vermilion with his hand on her left shoulder. He was still dressed for bed, apparently having just woken up himself.

"Morning." he said.

A quiet throaty moan of displeasure was all Cyan could manage as a reply. She glanced up at the nearby bedroom window and noticed that whatever sunlight would normally have fallen on her had been blocked out by heavy clouds.

"What time is it?" she asked

"7:30." he replied, and nodded towards the desk, "Have you been up all night again?"

She shook her head a little bit and yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Any progress?" he asked.

With a frown, she threw a look over her shoulder at the corner, where a half dozen balled up sheets of paper lay on the floor next to a trashcan.

Vermilion considered the pile with a rueful stare, "Still nothing? You've been at it for two weeks now."

She scooped up the pages on the desk in front of her and held them up before tossing them aside in frustration, "Take a few measurements, do some calculations, make some small adjustments, I thought this would be easy."

"Maybe you just need a break." Vermilion said.

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, sure. It's not like this is the only topic we're covering in every single lecture or anything."

"Not today." Vermilion said.

She arched an eyebrow, and looked at him from the corner of her eye.

"The field trip?" he reminded her.

"...That's today?"

He chuckled and nodded.

Cyan swore as she leapt up and bolted from the room, nearly bowling Lyohniy over as she ran down the hall.

A little more than an hour later, the four of them had joined several dozen other students on a transport ship leaving the Atlesian airstrip and bound for the huge expanse of forested areas in the foothills of the mountains that rested on the outer edge of the Atlas territories which had come to be known as the Wilds. The ship itself was massive, more than twenty meters in length, with an observation lounge fixed to the ship's belly, nearly four meters across on the inside. The room was sparse on seating, containing only several long benches along the walls, but everyone seemed far too excited to want for them. Cyan watched from one of the enormous windows that ran the full height and length of the lounge as the terrain passed seamlessly from the city to rural areas sparsely dotted with houses, and finally to dense forests. She glanced up and found herself wondering what the view would be like if the skies would clear up a little.

Vermilion came up behind her and gently touched a hand to her shoulder, "Nervous?"

"No." she lied, and tried to look away, but couldn't keep the smile off of her face.

He returned her smile, and nodded, "Yeah, so am I."

The siblings turned away from the window as Lyohniy and Roan joined them from the other side of the lounge. Lyohniy was fidgeting restlessly, constantly stretching his arms and shoulders out, while Roan just watched quietly and listened.

"Sure wish they would tell us _something_." Lyohniy said.

"It wouldn't be much of a test if we knew what to expect." Cyan reasoned.

Vermilion nodded towards Roan and said, "You've lived outside the kingdom borders, right? What's it like?"

"Like anywhere else." Roan said with a shrug.

They all stared at him.

"But the Grimm?" Cyan protested.

"They are dangerous." he said, "But over time you learn to avoid them."

"Hmph." she said, folding her arms, "You make it sound so simple."

"You're right. It's not." Roan conceded, "Not everyone who tries it is successful. And many of those I lived with frequently admitted that they would rather be lucky than skilled."

"Why not be both?" a smug voice said from behind them.

They all turned to see a tall, immaculately dressed figure approaching from behind them. He had a lean frame, and neck length black hair, the front of which had been finely sculpted into a single slick lock that trailed over the right side of his face. His clothing concealed a physique that had been forged to perfection by state-of-the-art training equipment, and he strode forward with a confident swagger, as if the very act of walking were beneath him.

"A true Huntsman takes every advantage he can get, right?" he said with a smarmy grin.

"Jet." Cyan fixed the man with a repugnant glare, "Did you get lost trying to walk from one side of the lounge to the other?"

Jet continued to stare forward for a second or two, and then glanced downward, acting as if he had just become aware of her presence, "Mm? Oh, our new combat instructor. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you at first, down there."

"What, another joke about my height?" she looked down at her wrist, and then up at Lyohniy, "Is it last Thursday again? Or is my watch running slow?

Lyohniy snickered to and inclined his head towards Jet in greeting, who maintained his sarcastic grin. It was then that Cyan became aware of a sudden floral odor to her left that made her wrinkle her nose. Of course. Wherever Jet went, following right behind him was—

"Hello, Autumn." Cyan said, "It's so nice to smell you again."

A slender girl, perhaps two inches taller than her stepped into view and wrapped herself around Jet's arm. She was strikingly beautiful, her looks accentuated by copious amounts of cosmetics and finely manicured hands. Her hair was dyed an almost brilliant shade of golden orange. She possessed a lean and lithe figure that moved with the grace of a coiled viper.

"Oh, Cyan," she purred, "You're looking… well. Who does your hair? You should fire them."

Cyan resisted a subconscious urge to touch a hand to her hair and glared back up at Autumn, "Of course. Why bother actually being effective in battle if you can't also look nice while doing it, right?"

Autumn turned her lips into a snide grin and said, "And what would you know about either of those?"

She let out a positively obnoxious laugh and glanced around, apparently expecting someone besides Jet to join her. Apparently, she forgot the company she was in.

Cyan stared forward, feigning a look of dull perplexity, and then gradually allowed comprehension to play across her face, "Ohh, I see. Like humor… but different."

Jet made a mildly dismissive wave of his hand and said, "Well, before we get too bored trading barbs back and forth..."

"Oh I don't know about that, Jet." Vermilion said, still grinning, "I'm sure she could do this all day."

He glanced down at his sister, who flashed a wicked grin towards Jet and nodded several times.

"Regardless," he said, "I was hoping to speak with you about something."

Vermilion blinked in surprise, "With me?"

"Indeed." he continued, "I'm sure it hasn't escaped your noticed that the formation of teams has been something of a hot subject amongst the accomplished elite of the upper classmen."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to take your word on that." Vermilion said, inclining his head towards the two of them.

Autumn started chuckling and batted an eyelash in Jet's direction, "He's so modest, isn't he?"

This time Jet did join in the laughter, "You should give yourself more credit, Vermilion. There are any number of teams that would be lucky to have you. And if you haven't made a decision yet, perhaps you would consider joining ours."

Cyan's jaw dropped in stunned silence, but she made an effort to close it again before anyone could notice. Vermilion likewise seemed lost for words, "You mean... follow you?"

Jet shrugged, "I would be just as happy following your lead, if that's how things play out."

Vermilion stumbled over his words for a second time, "Well, I… I'm flattered, I guess."

"Then you'll accept?" Autumn said, flashing another of her winning smiles.

"I'll have to," Vermilion paused, seemingly searching for just the right words, "...give it some thought."

"Of course." Jet said in that effortlessly suave manner of his, "It's an important decision, after all. I just wanted you to be aware of all of your options. Autumn and I are going to the academy after we graduate next year, and I want you with us. I'd hate to see a future Huntsman of your potential be…"

He paused long enough to cast a sidelong glance at Cyan, Lyohniy, and Roan, then said, "…held back by anything. Best of luck to you, today."

Both he and Autumn directed a polite gesture towards Vermilion, and then excused themselves.

Cyan watched them go, her mouth now fully gaping from shock, "Un-be-lievable! Did he actually think you would _agree_ to that?!"

Vermilion shook his head in disbelief, "Yes, I think he actually did."

"Sometimes I wonder which is bigger; his ego or his trust fund." Lyohniy observed.

They all shared a laugh again, except for Roan, who continued to watch the pair carefully as they began speaking with several of the other students.

"What do you suppose he meant by that?" he asked.

"About Vermilion being held back?" Cyan said with a scoff, "Who knows? The guy's a creep. Forget about him."

"Probably just trying to mess with us." Lyohniy said, and then affected a mocking imitation, "_Best of luck, today_. Tch, jerk."

Roan looked towards them, then back at Jet again and nodded, even though he didn't seem particularly convinced.

A chime sounded throughout the cabin, drawing everyone's attention towards the windows. A partially transparent image in the vague shape of a person was projected onto enough of the window panels that everyone could easily see and hear it. Cyan immediately recognized the gruff features of Instructor Jared. His normally wild hair was pulled into a mostly neat ponytail, but his expression remained as fierce as ever.

"We'll be arriving at the first drop point in a few minutes, so I'll keep this as brief as possible." he said, gazing forward into space.

Cyan could feel the anticipation building throughout the lounge as more and more of the students turned their attention to the message.

Instructor Jared continued, "For many of you, this will be your first time in the field. I know that some of you have never encountered the creatures of Grimm before."

Several students did their best to hide their trepidation at that statement, far more than Cyan would have initially guessed.

"But it's important that you gain firsthand knowledge what you will one day be facing, and the sooner the better. To that end, you will be following three professional teams on their patrol today. I'm sure some of you have already seen and met them."

Cyan turned her gaze towards the front of the lounge where a group of a dozen heavily armed individuals was standing. They looked young, perhaps in their twenties, but stood out to her because they weren't wearing any clothing associated with the school. Instead they were dressed in a variety of form-fitting, wildly colored outfits. One of them, a woman with a pink stripe dyed in her blonde hair, smiled and waved cheerfully as the students turned to look in her direction, earning her a nudge from her companion, a dour looking man in a green tank top with a trail of spiky brown hair flowing off of his head and tribal tattoos covering his arms.

Jared's voice grew more forceful, "They are _not_ here to babysit you. They have their own mission to complete. You are here to assist them as scouts."

The projection shimmered and changed to a physical map of the surrounding area and displayed a number of red lines dividing it into different quadrants.

"You will divide into teams of four." Jared said, "Each member of the team that has not yet completed their graduation project will receive a standard-issue tactical rifle and Dust blade, for defensive purposes only. Each team will also be issued a single scroll for relaying the location of hostile contacts and emergency communications only."

The map vanished, and Jared's stern expression returned, "Once the ship has reached a drop point you will disembark along with the Hunter team you are assigned to work with. After executing your landing strategy, proceed directly to the coordinates indicated on your scroll. The moment you make contact with the enemy, you are to immediately relay the position and numbers to the Hunter team, and wait for them to arrive."

Then suddenly his features softened, "I shouldn't have to tell you how dangerous this will be, nor should I have to tell you to exercise extreme caution at all times, but I'm going to anyway. You will be graded on your ability to carry out this assignment, but you'll never see that grade if you're dead. Follow every instruction your Team Leads give you, and you'll be safe. Good hunting."

Jared flickered and vanished, and was replaced by the image of a digital timer that read 4:23 and immediately began counting down. It was as if the entire lounge exhaled a held breath simultaneously. Conversations resumed, though in a much more hushed tone that before. Cyan spun around to face the other three, and could see Lyohniy and her brother's eyes were filled with barely contained excitement. Roan stared out of the window, presumably making careful note of the terrain below them.

A woman's voice suddenly came over the loudspeaker, "Time until drop zone is now four minutes, will all groups please make their way to the front of the cabin. Repeat..."

Cyan felt the nervousness wash over her again, and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets to stop them from shaking, then glanced up at Vermilion and saw him staring at something across the cabin. She followed his gaze to see Jet standing a few meters away staring back at him. They continued to stare at each other for several long moments, until Jet nodded with another slimy grin, then raised two fingers to his forehead and sketched a mock salute before turning around and joining Autumn at the front of the lounge.

Vermilion then turned back towards the rest of them, looked down at Cyan and smiled, "Ready?"

A confident smirk spread across her lips, and she gave him a single nod in reply, then turned towards the other two. Lyohniy looked about ready to to leap out of the nearest window, but Roan maintained a puzzled expression on his face and seemed lost in thought.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He stared into space for while longer, and then abruptly turned his head towards her, "What is a landing strategy?"

Simultaneously, Cyan and Vermilion looked at each other, eyes widened with apprehension.

Several minutes later, the four of them stood in line in a small compartment somewhere in the bottom of the airship, fully equipped, waiting for the vessel to reach the second drop point. She glanced at the weaponry she had been issued for the duration of the mission: a straight single-edged blade, just over half a meter in length, and an assault rifle with a standard cartridge load-out, autofire capable, and identical to the ones carried by Atlesian military, designed more for precision and discretion rather than brute force. Simple to be sure, but also effective in trained hands. The dim lighting, combined with her stature made it difficult to see much of anything, but Cyan could sense Roan lean down over her shoulder from behind her.

"We just jump?" he said, trying his best to disguise the anxiety in his voice.

She sighed, "Yes."

"And then we fall?"

"And we fall, yes!" she said, for what felt like the hundredth time, "Didn't you ace the practical knowledge exam?"

Roan frowned, and looked away, "Not entirely."

The ship shuddered and pulled into a hover, causing everyone to lurch forward. Cyan tightened her grip around the straphanger to keep her balance.

"What are you so worried about anyway?" Lyohniy said, "Your Semblance should make this a piece of cake."

Roan fastened a stern look at the taller boy behind him, "It doesn't work like that. I have to be able to see where I want to go."

Lyohniy cocked one eyebrow at him, "You can't see the _ground_?"

The roar of wind entered their compartment as a door at the opposite end slid open, and the line began to slowly shuffle forward.

"Not through that canopy. Nor would it matter if I could, from this height." Roan said, "I also have a limited range."

"No kidding?" Lyohniy said, tilting his head to one side, "How limited?"

"About twenty-five meters."

They reached the open door. Cyan peered outside to see the vast expanse of the forest sprawling out below her. When she glanced towards the horizon, the city and all it's comforts were nowhere to be seen. The pink-striped Huntress from earlier, along with her three companions, were scanning the surroundings, carefully monitoring the students that had just disembarked.

Cyan had to shout to be heard over the combined sounds of wind and the ship's engines, "Why don't you just use it when you fall within your range?"

Roan's voice remained as steady as ever, but his expression contained a considerable amount of panic barely held in check, "Because I also retain any momentum that I build up."

Cyan exchanged another worried glance with Lyohniy, and the two of them looked up at Vermilion, who was watching over the edge carefully.

The Huntsman with the tribal tattoos turned to the four of them and nodded.

Vermilion gave a half shrug, "I sure hope we can think of something before we reach the ground."

Then he jumped.

Lyohniy let loose a tremendous whoop and jumped as well. Cyan pushed away her doubts and stepped over the edge, allowing herself to fall face-first out of the open door. Roan gulped, then closed his eyes and followed them.

For the briefest of moments all time seemed to stop, and Cyan felt herself overwhelmed by a sensation of blissful serenity. The wind stung at her eyes, and it hurt to keep them open, but it served as a reminder that without practice she wouldn't have been able to open them at all. She twisted her head around and searched for the rest of their team. Vermilion had already flattened himself out; knees bent, back arched, and held his arms to the side, slowing his descent as much as possible. After observing his technique, Roan had done much the same. Lyohniy drifted lazily about, rolling through the open air, grinning from ear to ear all the while. Cyan angled her body slightly downwards, pointing it in a straight line and began to pick up speed. Once she joined the rest of them, she leveled out into a similar position. Then they took the few remaining seconds they had and began looking for a suitable place to land.

Her eyes searched the area below, noting the many branches devoid of their leaves, and settled upon a particular cluster of trees about fifteen meters to their ten o'clock. The hill that rolled out beneath them was on a gradual slope downwards, and there was some thick vegetation at the base of the trees down the length of the slope. Even without a perfect landing, it should help absorb most of the impact. The deafening roar of the wind would have made shouting to the others pointless, so she held her hand up to get their attention, and then pointed out the area to them. Vermilion saw it and gave a thumbs up, then began to dip his shoulder, slowly steering his fall in that direction. The rest of them followed his course in a reasonably tight formation. When Roan was close enough, she touched a hand to his arm to get his attention.

"Try to find branches to slow your fall!" she shouted, while pulling her Dust blade free from the sheath at her side, "Land feet first, and keep your knees bent!"

She pantomimed each action as she spoke, and while it was impossible to be certain if he had heard anything she'd said, he did nod in understanding and drew his own blade from its sheath. Cyan focused her attention back towards the leafless trees rapidly approaching in front of her. The words from the training echoed about her conscious mind: what might happen doesn't matter, focus on the moment in front of you.

Her gaze locked on a branch directly in front of her, and she reached her free hand towards it. The instant it made contact, she hardened her aura around her. It absorbed the brunt of the impact, and she glided in a half-circle around the limb, altering her trajectory sharply in the direction of the trunk. Her hand found another branch and she pushed to the side, hurtling at a forty-five degree angle downwards, and when she reached the trunk she plunged her blade into it. The wood split, and her momentum almost wrenched her shoulder out of joint, but she managed to shift her weight enough to slide straight down the tree. Upon reaching the ground, she pulled her blade free and tucked her legs, tumbling over and over in a forward shoulder roll. It wasn't until she brought herself to a stop that she finally exhaled her held breath.

Glancing upwards, she saw the others had met with similar success. Vermilion plunged into the first branch he encountered, artfully swinging his forward momentum towards a pair of enormous trees. He planted his feet firmly on the first one he encountered and leapt off of it, ricocheting between the trunks several times before landing in a crouch. Rather that utilize his blade, Lyohniy kept both hands free, pushing clear of the upper layers of limbs, and careening directly towards the trunk. He met it with a closed fist, springing his barrier around him, and used it to absorb the remainder of his fall before dropping into a perch on a branch directly below him.

Roan, on the other hand, wasn't quite so fortunate.

His blade fell upon the first branch he came into contact with, putting his entire weight on it. The limb groaned, bent forward, and, despite it's thickness, finally snapped. In a panic he flickered from view, and then reappeared, still upside down, a few scant inches away from the trunk. A grunt of pain escaped his mouth as he collided with it and continued his downward descent, bouncing ungracefully from one branch to the next. He hit the ground with a thud, and rolled several times until he at last he came to a rest inside a sizable shrub at the bottom of another nearby tree, and then groaned.

Lyohniy dropped from his perch, and they all rushed over to him. By the time they got there, he had mostly extricated himself from the prickly bush by crawling out from under it. He had a sizeable gash on his chin, and burrs from the shrub clung to his hair.

"Are you okay?" Vermilion asked.

He managed to nod weakly in reply.

"Not bad for your first time." Lyohniy grinned, and offered him a hand.

Roan glared up at him, but nonetheless accepted the hand and pulled himself back to his feet. Lyohniy frowned as he watched him stand and leaned around to look over his shoulder. Cyan saw immediately what he was looking at. A small metal shard fell from Roan's back, exposing part of the of the rifle mechanism, and a full third of the weapon barrel was bent into an odd shape.

"That's not good." Cyan observed.

Roan unslung the rifle and pulled the magazine free. After a cursory examination, he said, "Still intact."

Vermilion shook his head, "You should stow the rifle. It's too risky."

Roan nodded affirmingly, and held the magazine out to him. Vermilion took it in his hand and it disappeared into his belt.

"Here." Cyan said as she unstrapped the Dust blade sheath from her leg, "Take this."

Roan accepted the weapon and fastened it behind him at the waist. A quiet, repetitive, chirping sound drew their attention, and the group turned to face Vermilion, who pulled the scroll from his belt and opened it. Cyan could see a digital map, and what appeared to be a long string of numbers in the top corner.

"Our coordinates." he said.

"Looks like we're on the clock." Lyohniy said, "We should get moving."

"Who will be in charge?"

They all turned to face Roan, then looked around at each other. After several seconds of silence, Cyan tried to take a step forward and speak, but for some reason she couldn't and she wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps it was a result of a quick and unexpected self-examination. She could barely manage herself, after all, let alone the four of them. Or perhaps it was it was the sound Jet's cryptic statement on the airship still ringing fresh in her mind. She bowed her head and sighed.

"Maybe..." she finally said, "you should hold onto it, V?"

The admission left a sour taste in her mouth, and she hoped that she didn't look as grave as she felt when she spoke.

She gazed back up at her brother, who looked at the others for any objections. When none came, he regarded the device with a half-shrug, "Alright then."

The scroll disappeared back into his belt. Either he hadn't noticed her expression, or he didn't want her to think he did. She wasn't sure which possibility irritated her more.

Lyohniy was so excited he nearly jumped out of his boots, "C'mon, already!" he said as he unslung his rifle, "Let's go!"

Vermilion chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder, "Slow down for a minute. Roan, you've been out in the Wilds before. Why don't you take point?"

He gave a curt, wordless nod as his reply and Vermilion pointed him the the direction that the scroll had indicated was the correct one. Cyan shifted her gear so that it rode more comfortably on her shoulders, and marched forward right behind Roan. Vermilion fell in behind her, and Lyohniy double checked the sights on his rifle before taking up the rear.

"Oh, man." he said, "This is gonna be great!"

The excitement did not last.

"This is ridiculous!" Lyohniy shouted in frustration.

He paused atop a fallen tree as the group crested another ridge while directing his frustration towards the open sky.

"Stop complaining." Vermilion said to him.

"Four hours!" he said as he hopped down to resume the pace, "Four hours we've been wandering without a single sign of Grimm activity. Are we even still in Atlas anymore?"

"There are some people who would call that a good thing." Roan said, without averting his gaze from the path in front of him.

Cyan rolled her eyes and moved alongside Vermilion. He had the scroll back out, and was studying the map intently.

"He's got a point, you know." she said under her breath, "Shouldn't we have found _something_ by now?"

"It's a patrol," he reminded her, "There are never any guarantees with the Grimm. You should know that."

A brief patch of static began to emanate from the scroll as the radio crackled to life.

"Team Lead to north group, check in." a gruff-sounding voice ordered.

"N1, all clear." a female voice answered.

"N2, all clear." said a younger sounding male.

Vermilion sighed and tapped the talk button, "N3, all clear."

The two remaining teams each answered in turn. The Huntsman sent an acknowledgement and the scroll again fell silent.

Cyan clucked her tongue against her teeth, "What a waste of time."

Her brother looked over at her, "The check-ins help keep us safe. Without them, it could take all day to discover if something happened to us. Maybe longer."

"That's not what I meant." she said, ducking under a particularly low-hanging branch, "We're supposed to be learning about the Grimm. What's the point of all this if we never even see them?"

Lyohniy's stride carried him on the opposite side of her from Vermilion, and he nodded in agreement, "I hear that."

Vermilion let out an exasperated sigh, "Well what do you want to do, then?" he asked, "I mean, besides ignoring our orders?"

"I didn't say that." she shot back at him, "There's an obvious flaw with this approach. What's so wrong with pointing it out?"

"It's irrelevant." Vermilion insisted, "This is a job. A dangerous job. Fun and excitement are rarely part of the description."

"Hey, cut her some slack, man." Lyohniy said, "She's just saying what we're all thinking."

Vermilion narrowed his eyes, "Actually, I'm pretty sure some of us are thinking about the task at hand."

Cyan pushed another branch out of her way and blew out her breath in a quick puff of annoyance, "Ugh, just forget I said anything, okay? I wasn't trying to start a… where's Roan?"

The group abruptly stopped, and looked forward to where Roan had been only a moment before, but he was nowhere to be found. Vermilion took a few steps forward, his eyes rapidly searching the area. Cyan stepped behind him, watching the places that he wasn't, while Lyohniy brought his rifle up to bear and remained on guard. She was almost about to start calling for him when he stepped into view from behind the nearby brush. He exhaled in relief and she could see he had a deathly pallor on his face.

"What happened?" she asked, "Where did you go?"

"To ground." he replied, "Why didn't you follow my lead?"

Vermilion blinked at him, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"And what's with you?" Lyohniy added, "I mean, you look absolutely…"

"Grim." Roan finished.

"Well, I was gonna say, 'petrified', but yeah, I guess that works."

"No." he shook his head, "Grimm."

They all froze, and for a few moments there was no sound save for the chill winter wind rustling through the trees.

"What?" Cyan said.

Roan's right ear twitched, and he snapped his head in that direction.

"Down!" he hissed and fell into a low crouch. The rest of them did the same, and began slowly making their way forward through the brush, following Roan's careful lead.

"One Beowolf." he said, "Ten meters ahead of us."

"Just one?" Vermilion said, cocking his head to one side, "It's alone?"

"Can we get closer?" Lyohniy asked, before Roan had time to answer.

"We are still downwind." Roan admitted with a grimace, "I suppose so, if we're careful."

They spent a few minutes carefully picking their way through the underbrush in an effort to make as little noise as possible. At the foot of a small ridge, Roan dropped to flat to the ground and continued forward at a crawl, and the rest of them did the same. After cresting the ridge they stopped and peered out from underneath a particularly dense bush into the clearing before them.

The creature stood roughly two and a half meters tall, and it's body was covered in pitch black fur that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. Thick, jagged-looking protrusions of what looked like bone ran along the outside of it's forearm and elbows, with a small ridge running down the length of it's spine, and it's head was almost entirely covered by a milky white skull-shaped mask, from which two beady red eyes almost seemed to glow. It stood on it's hind legs, far too comfortably for Cyan's taste, and arched its back, pointing a maw full of glistening fangs into the air, almost as though it were stretching. They all realized in that instant that was sniffing at the air, and watched it casually lean its snout in the group's direction. For a while, no one dared to even breathe, and eventually the Beowolf dropped back down onto all fours and continued to pad slowly across the clearing.

"Oh, man." Lyohniy said in a hushed voice, and gulped once to settle himself, "What do you think it's it doing?"

"Who can say?" Roan whispered back, "Even after generations of fighting, we still know so little about them."

They sat there in silence for a moment longer, not daring to take their eyes away from the monstrous form.

"We should call this in." Cyan said, finally, "Shouldn't we?"

When she didn't receive a reply, she looked over at Vermilion. He wore an expression on his face that she had never seen on him before. His jaw was set tightly and his brow had curled into a knot. He stared so intently at the thing that it looked to Cyan as though he were attempting to burn it to a crisp where it stood using just his gaze. The fingers on his right hand had slowly clenched into a fist, held so tight that it almost seemed to be trembling.

"…V?" she said, leaning closer to him.

"Huh?", he blinked, and resumed his normal countenance, "Oh. Right."

She watched as he fumbled at his belt pouch and pulled the scroll free. What had happened to him just now?

He slid down the hill away from the clearing, followed closely by Cyan and Lyohniy. Roan elected to stay, keeping a close eye on the creature's movements.

Vermilion clicked the talk button and said quietly, "N3 to Team Lead."

After a brief silence, the scroll crackled back, "Team Lead. Go ahead N3."

He opened his mouth to speak but suddenly closed it again, paused as though in thought, and then said, "Nothing, sorry. False alarm."

"Copy." the voice said, sounding almost annoyed, "Keep the chatter light."

The scroll then fell silent.

Cyan's eyes went so wide they almost fell out of her head, "What are you doing?"

Vermilion gave her a wry grin, and nodded back towards the ridge, "Remember the lectures? Beowolves are always part of a pack. If this one is alone, more of them shouldn't be too far away."

"So what?" Cyan said.

"So," he said, "if we follow this one it should lead us right to the rest."

"Hunt the hunters." Lyohniy said with a smirk, "I like it."

"Well I don't." Cyan shook her head and replied, "First of all, you can't know that for sure, and second, even if you're right it could be days before it rejoins the rest of the pack. Or weeks!"

Lyohniy seemed to consider this, and looked back towards Vermilion, who rubbed his chin in thought, "Okay, we'll follow it for two hours. After that, if there's no sign of a pack, we'll call it in."

Cyan still wasn't convinced.

"Look," Vermilion said, "weren't you two the ones going on about how bored you were? This is a chance to make this something worth calling in."

She glanced over at Lyohniy who was watching her hopefully, then she sighed and said, "For the record, I still think this is a bad idea."

"Noted." Vermilion said with a triumphant grin, and the two boys quietly scampered back up the hill.


	8. Chapter 6

The more she thought about it, the more Cyan started to realize she didn't know quite what she had been expecting when she first decided to try to become a Huntress. The biggest mistake Dad had made regarding her decision was telling her that she couldn't. She hated it when people told her she couldn't do something, not so much out of being contrary, but more the implication that she wouldn't be able to if she tried. Ever since she was young, she always felt that she was different from the other kids around her. That she was special in some way, or that she was meant to do something extraordinary. At the outset, being a Huntress looked like it would be a natural fit. Lyohniy also had a lot to do with it she supposed. When they first met him, he used to tell them both stories about his father. He greatly dramatized a number of the details, certainly, but the possibility that even some of it was true— protecting the innocent, going on adventures to different lands, it seemed like such a wonderful life.

The last thing she expected was to spend ninety long minutes slowly following a horrid monstrosity through a bitter cold wilderness.

Cyan cautiously peered around the side of a tall coniferous trunk, only to slink back in time to avoid the casual gaze of the Beowolf. Leaning back around the other side of the tree, she met eyes with Roan, who was similarly hidden about twenty meters away from her. After a short, but furious, protest, he had agreed with the plan to follow the Beowolf until it returned to its fellows. She was too far away to clearly spot Vermilion or Lyohniy from her current position, but if there was a problem Roan would have signaled to her by now. He had clear sight to Lyohniy, who was roughly equal distance from him that Roan was from Cyan, while Vermilion was positioned on the creature's opposite flank.

The formation had been Lyohniy's idea, something his father had shown him when he was younger. All four of them maintained line-of-sight and equal distance to the Grimm, and could quickly react to any sudden changes in its movement. In addition, by maintaining visual on at least one other teammate, the whole group could be alerted quickly if one of them ran into trouble. If the Grimm detected one of them and began heading in that direction, they could easily scatter and rebuild the formation to account for its new heading. Finally, they are able to observe far more of the surrounding area than they would as a close-knit group. As long as they remained vigilant, there should be nothing to worry about.

Nothing, of course, except the unbearable stress of the situation.

Cyan had been on edge ever since they started. She had told herself it was just nerves, and that after she had given the plan a chance they would settle down. Instead, she had only grown more agitated as the minutes ticked by. Ten, fifteen, thirty. She had given up trying to count them when she almost heard herself doing it out loud. Every footfall the Grimm made, every crackle of the fallen timbers it crushed underfoot, and every branch that rustled in the wind spun her head in attention as though it were a gunshot going off next to her ear. The hush that surrounded them was possibly the worst part. The various denizens of the forest seemed to instinctively avoid the Grimm as it approached, even though it paid them no mind. Birds scattered into the sky, insects stopped chittering, and the whole area fell eerily silent. While it wasn't boring, it certainly wasn't fun as she would ever define it. The entirety of the situation was terrifying, and steadily growing more difficult to bear as time went on, instead of easier.

She began to wonder if any of the others felt the same way.

A single quiet beep from her watch drew her attention. She glanced down towards the digital display, which told her that one hour and forty minutes had passed since they started. Only twenty more to go until the time they agreed on. She tried to take a deep breath, but it started to come out as a shudder, so she clamped her mouth shut on it.

All of the sudden, the Beowolf stopped, and craned its head to one side with its foreleg lifted in the air, as if it were listening to something. Cyan froze in place, waiting for any sign of movement. After a few agonizing seconds, the creature turned and began lumbering away from her. She checked Roan's position and saw him frantically signaling for her to follow. A lump formed in her throat as she cautiously picked her way through the foliage, taking care to keep herself out of sight. When she joined with him, he lead her silently through the woods to meet up with the others. They came upon Lyohniy, who was sitting upright on an old fallen tree, with his right foot disappearing between it and a nearby rock. Vermilion leaned over him, examining it carefully.

"What happened?" Cyan asked worriedly.

Lyohniy bowed his head sheepishly, "Ah, I was trying to get over this trunk and I slipped on a patch of ice."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." he said while wriggling his leg, "But I can't get my boot loose."

Roan's voice was gripped with apprehension, "We need to move. The Beowolf is headed this way."

"How much time?" Vermilion asked him.

"A minute, maybe less."

Vermilion nodded, stood, and moved on the other side of the trunk from Cyan, "We'll have to lift it far enough for you to pull your leg out."

Cyan and Roan exchanged glances just long enough to realize that they didn't have any better ideas before they both squatted down and reached their hands as far under the fallen tree as they could get them. After a quick count, the three of them heaved, but the tree proved even more determined than they in its stubborn refusal to budge. The faint sounds of movement reached Cyan's ears. Something big was coming closer.

"Vermilion..." she said nervously, her voice brought down to a whisper.

"Again!" he shouted as quietly as he could.

The three of them once again strained against the weight of the trunk. It creaked and groaned as it sloughed off the years of vegetation that had grown around it. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it rose off the ground, a few fractions of an inch at a time. Slowly, the sound of the footfalls grew ever closer behind them. Cyan shut her eyes and pulled up as hard as she could.

The tree trunk let out an enormous crack as it began to splinter down the middle between her and Vermilion. Before any of them had time to react, the rotten wood split the trunk into two uneven halves. Vermilion lost his balance and tumbled backwards to the ground away from them. Roan's feet slid out from under him as he struggled futilely against the overwhelming weight of the remaining half of the trunk. Cyan locked her body into a rigid position while Lyohniy tried to pull himself out of the way. Her arms finally gave out just before he could completely clear the trunk, and he let out a sharp yelp of pain as the heavy wood rolled across his ankle.

"Lyoh!" she shouted as she rushed to his side. He winced and managed to drag himself away from the tree. Vermilion stood to his other side, and together they helped him get back up. He was able to stand, but wobbled unsteadily as he did so, his right leg clearly unable to support his full weight.

A vicious snarling drew their attention. They all looked between the trees and brush behind them in horror as the Beowolf, now a scant five meters away, drew itself up to it's full height. It's jaw fell open, and from it erupted an ear-splitting howl. The cry echoed throughout the small valley they were in, lapping off of the nearby trees. Cyan's eyes widened in shock as she realized that they weren't just echoes. Something was nearby, and answering back.

_Oh no..._

"We have to go!" Roan suddenly shouted and bolted in opposite direction.

"Hold on!" Vermilion called after him, but the young Faunus was already on the move.

Lyohniy pushed himself free from their grasp, "I'm alright! Just go!"

They ran.

Between the trees, over fallen timbers, through shrubbery, anything they could find to slow down a direct pursuit, they moved for. One by one, these same things cracked under the weight of the Beowolf as it pursued them. It didn't take long for Lyohniy to start to falling behind. The gap between him and Roan steadily widened as they moved through the forest. They burst from the edge of the foliage and came upon a small stream, bounding across it one by one. On the opposite shoreline, Lyohniy finally lost his footing and stumbled to the ground, planting a palm in the mud to stop himself from plunging face-first into it, but managing to keep his other hand firmly gripped on his rifle. Vermilion skidded to a halt, turned, and wrapped one arm around Lyohniy's waist, and Lyohniy's free hand around his shoulders, then hauled him up out of the muck. Cyan whirled around to see Roan had stopped in his tracks and was slowly backing away from the edge of the treeline in front of him. Two more Beowolves, both even larger than the one they had been tracking, emerged from the foliage, their dripping jaws hanging open.

"Head upstream!" Vermilion shouted.

Roan darted off in that direction followed closely by Cyan, who spared a brief look over her shoulder to see her brother slowly drag Lyohniy along. This was hopeless. They'd never outrun the Beowolves on open ground. Up ahead she spied several outcroppings of rocks piled lazily on a river bend, with a few gnarled trees growing nearby. It was as good a place as any to make their stand.

She pulled the rifle off of her shoulder, spun, dropped to one knee, and shouted "Go!", taking careful aim at the nearest pursuer.

Just as her target got within striking range of Vermilion and Lyohniy, she squeezed the trigger and a short burst of weapon fire sputtered from the barrel. It struck the creature squarely in the face, splashing off its skull-like mask. The Beowolf roared in frustration as its clawed hand fell shy of the intended target. It was little more than staggered, but that bought Vermilion enough time to make it past her with Lyohniy, and settle him in the shadow of one of the trees. The creature regained its bearings and charged in her direction. Cyan inhaled sharply and fired again in several controlled bursts. The Beowolf snarled and ducked its head in response, causing the shots to ricochet off of the mask and the thick pelt at its shoulders. Once it got close enough, it leapt into the air and tilted its head to the side, bringing an enormous gaping maw down on top of her. Cyan tucked her shoulder and dove forward, passing under the creature as it landed, wincing as she felt a tooth snag the fabric of her jacket. She turned the dive into a smooth shoulder roll and whirled back to one knee, trying a few more shots at the monsters exposed back side. The Beowolf seemed little more than irritated, and it lashed out at her again with a pair of clawed hands that were easily bigger than her head. She rolled, weaved, and tumbled around, keeping herself a hair's breadth away from one vicious swipe after another.

"Cyan! Heads up!" she heard a voice call to her.

She leaned to one side to look over the creature's shoulder and saw that Lyohniy had propped himself up against the tree. He had drawn his Dust blade from the sheath and, as soon as she made eye contact, tossed it end over end through the air in her direction. The shape of the Beowolf eclipsed her view once again and she hopped a full meter backwards as another hairy claw slammed into the ground where she had been standing. Before it could take another swing, it suddenly reared back in pain, and whipped its arm backwards behind it. Vermilion, having just sliced a clean blow through it's hind leg, slid away from the retaliatory strike. Cyan took the opportunity to leap clear over the Beowolf and secure her rifle to her back, then twirled artfully, grabbing the blade out of the air and cut a deep gash in the back of the monster's neck in one continuous motion. The creature roared again, and tried to swipe its other claw at her as she landed. Cyan swiftly transferred the blade to her other hand and ground her stance as her brother stepped in behind her, and the two of them brought in incoming claw to a hard stop.

Lyohniy's cheer was cut short by a low growl and a rustling sound coming from behind him. He looked up to see another Beowolf perched on its hind legs and leering menacingly over the tree. It attempted to leap over the tree at him, but Lyohniy fell to his back and allowed the creature to pass over him, spraying a hail of gunfire into its largely unprotected belly before rolling clear as the beast sprawled on the ground howling in agony. It pushed itself back to all fours, snarled in his direction, and tried to lunge for him again. The charge was cut short by Roan, who suddenly appeared in the air just above its head, bringing a pair of Dust blades down directly on top of its skull in a blow that left the Beowolf stunned. The weapons weaved rhythmically back and forth across the creature's face, flashing out a hail of sparks with each impact, forcing the it back on its hind legs in an attempt to reach over top of his line of attack. When it did, Lyohniy opened fire again, filling the monsters underside with perfectly placed shots. The Beowolf groaned and collapsed to the ground.

Meanwhile, Cyan and Vermilion began to move in tandem against their own Beowolf, alternating flawlessly between attack and defense. The creature made a wild swing, Vermilion stabbed at the exposed paw, and Cyan ducked underneath of him and sliced at its upper arm. When it tried to retaliate with the other arm, Cyan shielded them from the blow, and Vermilion spun around in front of her to cut the creature across it's shoulder joint. It then attempted to snap its jaws shut around them, and they split in opposite directions: Vermilion leapt straight up in the air, while Cyan ducked into a crouch that took her almost to the ground before thrusting her blade upwards through the bottom of the creature's closed mouth and it disappeared inside of its head, which she lifted upwards just long enough for Vermilion to bring the heel of his leg down on top of its skull. With a furious shout, he channeled his Semblance into the bone-like mask, striking with a sickening crunch that spider-webbed it with tiny cracks, and the Grimm fell without a sound. Before she could even draw a breath, a sudden noise made her whirl around to the sight of two more Beowolves entering the area, growling menacingly at the group.

"Look out!" she shouted at her brother, noticing too late that he had drawn his rifle and shouted the same thing to her.

A sudden gasp of pain escaped her lips as something huge and heavy slammed into her back. Without her aura to protect her, the blow would have shattered her spine. Instead, the surprise attack from a third Beowolf hurled her several meters through the air in the direction of the stream where she rolled to a stop on its bank. Vermilion tried to level his weapon at it but was set upon by the two other beasts. He leapt over the first swing aimed at his legs, but was unable to avoid the strike from the second one. He braced his arms over his head and absorbed as much of the blow as he could, but was nonetheless smashed back to the ground, his breath knocked out of him.

"No!" Lyohniy shouted, and began unloading his weapon into the new assailants, drawing snarls of rage from them both. The third one ignored the distraction and stalked over to the ground where Cyan lay. She groggily rolled to her back just in time to see a mouth lined with razor sharp fangs descend towards her head. She had barely enough time to shift to one side far enough to avoid the snapping jaws. When the Beowolf leaned back to try again, she brought her knees to her chest and thrust the heels of her boots into the creature's snout. It snarled, reeling back from the blow and glared furiously at her. In that same instant, Roan appeared just behind its head, holding both of his Dust blades in a reverse grip, and plunged them into the soft area in the back of the Grimm's neck. It let out a gurgling snarl and flailed briefly, trying unsuccessfully to throw Roan off before collapsing to the ground.

Cyan bolted back to her feet and looked desperately towards Vermilion, who was doing his best to lead the other two Beowolves away from Lyohniy.

"V!" she shouted at him, "Backup!"

He didn't waste time nodding to her. After ducking away from another swipe, he retrieved the scroll from his belt in a blur of motion. Cyan and Roan both ran over, placing themselves in front of the Beowolves, trying to provide a distraction while he called for help.

"N3 to Team Lead! We—argh!"

One of the monsters went for the bait, the other one did not. It lunged for Vermilion the moment he turned away, misjudged the distance of its attack, and ended up slamming its shoulder into him, knocking them both sprawling. The scroll fell from his hand and was sent skittering across the ground towards the tree line. A tinny voice crackled through the speaker as it landed.

"N3, come in! What's your position?"

Cyan threw herself in the direction of the scroll, narrowly avoiding the gangly arms of the Beowolf. She scooped up the device as she rolled into a crouch, and mashed down the talk button.

"Team Lead, contact! Coordinates are—"

She paused for a half a heartbeat to double check the readout on the scroll, and was distracted by the deep rumbling of footsteps headed in her direction. Suddenly an enormous black shape burst from the treeline directly in front of her, shattering several of the huge trunks into splinters. Cyan was knocked backwards more from the sheer force of the impact than she was from any actual debris, and the scroll again fell from her grasp. When her vision cleared she looked up in horror to see the outline of a truly massive creature before her. It pushed itself up on its hind legs, reaching easily over three meters in height; far taller than any Beowolf, and almost twice as wide. It's white bone facemask sported several jagged protrusions around the edges, and wicked-looking red patterns around the the eyes. Numerous bone spikes grew out of its back, but unlike the ones on the Beowolves these were as thick as her leg at the base and nearly as long. It's beady red eyes surveyed the area with a malicious hunger, and from its gaping mouth arose a terrible, deep-throated roar.

"Say again, N3, say again! N3, do you—!" the voice on the other end of the radio was cut off when the monster came back down on all fours, crushing the scroll underfoot. It didn't even notice it was there. The two remaining Beowolves loosed a few irritated snarls, but ultimately backed away, surrendering their prey to this newcomer. It wasn't until it started to slowly stomp across the clearing that anyone came to their senses.

"That's..." Lyohniy said, trying to fight through the shock, "that's a big Ursa..."

Roan looked on in horror, and Vermilion kept his eyes glued to the new threat, watching for any sudden sign of movement. Cyan could feel the hatred and malice oozing from the thing as it stalked forward from the forest, issuing one low growl after another. She wrapped her fingers tightly around her rifle, and had to work hard to keep herself from trembling. The Ursa somehow eyed all of them at once, seemingly waiting for the one of them to falter and invite it to charge them.

"What do we do?" Roan asked.

Vermilion looked over his shoulder at Lyohniy, who was barely able to keep himself standing, and shook his head, "There's no way we can outrun that thing."

He tightened his grip around the Dust blade and it sparked to life, wisps of electricity humming along its edge, "The only way out is through."

Cyan nodded and ejected the magazine from her weapon, inserting a fresh one in its place. Lyohniy did the same, then leveled his rifle at the creature and waited for an opening. Roan spun his blades around on his palms, assuming a normal grip and took up a defensive stance at Vermilion's side. Vermilion nodded towards him, and signaled for him to get ready to move in on the creature's left. The Ursa snarled towards them, still moving steadily forward. Vermilion held his blade low and behind him, shifted his weight forward and then charged.

He didn't even make it within striking range before the Ursa raised a paw to swat him aside. It was so fast that no one even saw it coming, least of all Vermilion, who was batted away like a child's toy, and flung through the air into the trunk of a nearby tree, where he sat up dazed. Roan was able to make it close enough to take several swings with his blades, but they seemed unable to scratch the monster's skin through its thick matted coat. The Ursa snarled and swiped a backhanded paw in his direction, forcing him to use his Semblance to flee a fair distance away in order to avoid the hit. Lyohniy began fire as Cyan moved in, hoping to draw the creature's ire so that she could find an opening to strike. A hail of Dust charged energy struck its open mouth, and the monster roared in anger. Cyan had barely enough time to take a swing before the creature lumbered forward and pushed off of it's hind legs with astonishing strength and agility. It barreled through Cyan as though she wasn't even there, knocking her to the ground as it hurtled towards the source of the weapon fire, swinging a pair of enormous claws as far overhead as it could manage. Lyohniy tried to move, but his ankle gave out and he fell to one knee. In the split second it took the Ursa to smash its way through the tree, Vermilion shot across its path, grabbing Lyohniy around the shoulders and carrying him clear of the impact crater its massive paws created when they struck the ground.

Lyohniy exhaled in relief, and nodded his thanks at Vermilion who had already stood up and was trying to find the Ursa in the cloud of dust and debris it had created. With another angry roar, it sprang back into view, running directly at them. At Cyan's direction, both she and Roan came at the beast from opposite flanks, cleaving a strike across it's right front leg, foiling its charge and sending it tumbling to the ground. They crossed paths again when it tried to stand, slicing at its left front leg. This time, however, only Roan found his mark, while Cyan's blade bounced harmlessly off of a thick bone plating just under a tuft of fur. The creature got back on all fours and whirled a claw towards Cyan. She tried to raise her blade to block it, but the creature was far too strong and almost effortlessly knocked her to the ground, then reared back at her on its hind legs. Vermilion charged forward, thrusting his blade repeatedly at the creature's exposed belly, before leaping clear so that Lyohniy could fire again. His shots struck the open wounds, and the monster roared in what Cyan could only hope was agony. Roan flickered back into view behind the Ursa and leveled his blades at the back of its hind leg, then spun in a graceful circle, whirling both weapons in a deep, precise cut.

The Ursa teetered backwards several steps before dropping back to all fours to keep from falling on its side. Vermilion snatched up his rifle, and both he and Lyohniy splashed a number of shots off of the Ursa's mask, causing it to wince and back away. Roan rushed forward again, Dust blades flashing with energy, but was knocked senseless by a sudden savage swipe as the Ursa lurched forward. Cyan darted under the swing and slashed her blade upwards, cutting a deep gash across the right eye of the creature's mask. The Ursa roared and quickly fell backwards another several steps. Roan shook his head out and regained his bearings, charging towards the creature again. The Ursa noticed him too late to react and he leapt in the air, crossing his blades in front of him as he slashed a deep gash on the creature's right side. He then flickered and appeared on the left side, executing an impressive mid-air spin and landing another double cut. The creature reeled from the blow and spun to face him, thrusting a massive hairy claw in his direction. Roan fell to his knees and then leaned back until he was almost parallel to the ground, then uncrossed his arms on joint of the Ursa's foreleg. Vermilion pulled his blade back out and took several more steps forward. Cyan shuffled around behind it, unslung her rifle and sprayed its backside with another round of weapon fire. Another roar, and the swung its head back and forth, evenly splitting its attention between her, Roan, and Vermilion. Lyohniy braced himself against a nearby rock formation and focused his gaze down the rifle sights, waiting for an opening.

The Ursa snarled angrily and reared back once again, slamming it's massive forepaws down on the ground. The force of the impact sent a tremor that knocked everyone off-balance. Everyone, that is, except for Vermilion. The instant he saw the creature's legs coming down, he leapt into the air, nearly a full three meters above its already impressive height. He extended his arms outward, shifting his jump into a full head first dive, aiming himself squarely at the creature's back. Upon closer observation, Cyan could see he was picking up speed, and realized he was absorbing and internalizing the kinetic energy he was generating simply from falling.

"Get clear!" she shouted at Roan, who quickly obliged by vanishing and then reappearing across the field next to Lyohniy, helping him away from the area. She took the remaining time she had to dive in their general direction and cover her head with both arms.

The creature looked around, seemingly confused, as its adversaries broke off their attacks one by one. Vermilion set his jaw in furious determination as he began to focus himself on the point of impact. He gripped his blade tightly, and braced his other palm on the bottom of the pommel. Too late, the Ursa noticed his descent, and let out a pained howl when he thrust the blade in between the spikes on its back. With a sharp cry, he funneled the kinetic energy he had gathered into the blow, and the force of the impact pressed the Ursa flat on it's belly. A massive shockwave erupted from the creature that cracked the earth beneath it, sending up another blinding cloud of dust and debris. Cyan heard a tiny, high-pitched sound that she at first mistook for glass breaking, and then realized that Vermilion's Dust blade had snapped at the hilt. He pushed off into the air again, clearing the impact site and landing less than a meter from the other three, then immediately fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

Cyan scrambled to her feet and rushed over to help him stand. He panted heavily for a few moments before smiling weakly at her. She turned him around so they could check on Roan and Lyohniy, who both looked very impressed.

"Oh yeah!" Lyohniy said victoriously, his face breaking into a broad grin, "Now that's how you—"

The sounds of movement cut him off. All four of them watched in horror as the Ursa slowly picked itself up off of the ground. The remains of the blade stuck out of its back, surrounded by a field of white bone spikes. Despite the countless wounds, it continued to rise, growling and gnashing its teeth. Its legs wobbled for only a moment, and then it planted them firmly as it took one step after another. It didn't even look injured.

In fact, it looked angrier than ever.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" Lyohiny said in exasperation.

Fear swelled deep in her stomach, and Cyan felt her breath grow shallow, "V, this isn't working."

"We need a plan." he agreed, but there was no resolve left in his voice at all.

She looked over to see despair beginning to fill her brothers eyes. Similar resignation played on the features of the others. Not that she could really blame them; this monster had taken everything they had thrown at it so far and all but shrugged it off. They were all so exhausted that running was even less of an option now than it was before they started, and no one was coming to help them. She ground her teeth and pushed those thoughts away. There had to be a solution, another approach they hadn't considered yet. There just had to be. But how…?

Then, she got an idea.

"V," she said, tugging at his arm, "Do you still have that magazine?"

"What?" he said, looking at her askance.

"The one from Roan's damaged rifle."

He turned his head, "Yes, but—"

The sound of the Ursa's ever approaching footsteps made her cut him off, "Give it to me."

He blinked at her, but removed his arm from around her shoulders and obliged without further protest. Cyan quickly took it from him and held it out to Roan.

"Vermilion and I are going to distract it. When we do, can you get this in its mouth?"

Roan was incredulous, "In the—?"

"Can you do it?!" she demanded.

"I… think so." he nodded, slowly at first, and then more assuredly, "Yes."

"Good." she said, then turned on her heel, "Lyoh? You're the best marksman here. Once we're all clear, can you make the shot?"

"Oh yeah" he said confidently, "But that's gonna be a heck of a blast."

She paused for a moment in thought, then said, "Can your Semblance protect us?"

He nodded, "Sure, but we'll have to be close. I need to make the barrier as small as possible."

Cyan tossed her rifle to the ground and drew her blade from the back of her belt, "Let's do this."

Roan replaced one of his blades to its sheath, then took the magazine from Cyan and stood just behind her and Vermilion. She gave him a signal to be ready to rush the Ursa, as they wanted the coming explosion to be as far away from Lyohniy as possible. The moment that they made their move, so did the Ursa, lurching forward into an impressive leap. They managed to cover about half the distance Cyan would have like before they had to scatter to avoid being pounced upon. The creature let out another vicious snarl and turned to face Vermilion, apparently remembering their previous exchange, and flashed a huge row of razor sharp teeth at him. Cyan dashed forward, cutting a long gash along the creature's right flank, while Roan did the same on the left as he moved passed Vermilion to get behind it. The creature roared, and began looking in Roan's direction, prompting Cyan and Vermilion to simultaneously bring their blade's down across its face, which was more than enough to acquire its undivided attention. Its attacks were far too strong to block like she had done with the Beowolves, but they were also slower, so rather than grounding her stance, Cyan pivoted back and forth lightly on her toes. She and her brother avoided one heavy swing after another, retaliating with shallow strikes intended to anger it more than inflict damage. Before long the beast stood back on its hind legs in an attempt to simply crush them. Roan took that moment to make his move. He teleported directly onto the creature's back, grabbed a large fistful of fur with one hand, and, rather fearlessly, plunged his other hand into the enormous gaping maw.

Which promptly snapped shut around his arm.

"Roan!" Cyan shrieked in terror at the sight.

Even though the Ursa had clamped down tightly, there was no blood. His aura was still protecting him, but the pain was excruciating, and caused him to wince his eyes shut while a small cry of agony escaped his lips. The creature shook itself furiously back and forth, but Roan refused to let go. The twins both charged at it again, and were caught up in the creature's wild flailing. Vermilion took a blow to the bottom of his chin and was sent careening back at the ground. Cyan barely managed to avoid a similar blow by leaping backwards. While she was still in the air, she whipped her arm forward, throwing her Dust blade like a javelin at the eye where she had wounded its skull mask earlier. The blade found its mark and the Ursa reeled backward, howling in pain. With its mouth open, Roan tumbled down in front of the creature. Before he could get his bearings he was struck in the back of the head by one of its flailing claws. He plummeted the rest of the way to the ground, and lay unmoving at its feet.

Once again the Ursa's jaws split into a roar. Cyan peered upwards and noted that the magazine had been wrenched firmly in place on a row of sharp teeth near the back of it's mouth. Part of of the housing had been sheared away, exposing several bright multicolored spheres. Vermilion rubbed the dirt from his eyes while sprinting for Roan as fast as he could

"Lyoh!" she shouted as she followed her brother forward, "Take the shot!"

He hesitated, holding his aim steady, "But—!"

"Do it!"

Cyan and Vermilion made it to Roan almost at the same time, each grabbing an arm, and together they hauled him away from the Grimm as it flailed from the pain of it's wounded eye. Vermilion concentrated and pushed his legs off of the ground, channeling enough stored energy through them to carry the three of them several meters through the air. When they landed they weren't anywhere near Lyohniy, but it would have to be far enough.

Sweat fell from Lyohniy's brow as he stared down the sights of his weapon. He took a deep breath and held it, then at the last moment shifted the barrel a fraction of an inch upwards before making three rapid pulls of the trigger which loosed three shots in the direction of the Ursa. The beast crouched and pushed off its forelegs to lunge forward, opening its mouth to roar at them once again, lining up the incoming gunfire perfectly with its target: the single Dust crystal that had fallen free from the magazine and begun to roll across the monster's lolling tongue.

The instant the shots connected the creature was eclipsed entirely by an earth-shattering explosion. A kaleidoscope of color burst over the ground towards them, and Cyan stood up to face it. For just a moment, the image of her burning house flashed into her thoughts. Rather than push the memory away, she focused on it, drawing on the instincts it carried with it. She extended her hands towards the incoming tide of destruction, and heard Lyohniy desperately call out her name. The shock front from the explosion washed over her and she began to draw the energy into her outstretched palms, her whole body erupting in a hellish blue glow. After a few terrifying seconds, the fires had been reduced down to embers, and Cyan collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath. When the dust cleared, the Ursa was slumped awkwardly on the ground, and there was nothing remaining of its head but a burnt, smoking stump.

Lyohniy's face broke into another grin, and he hobbled his way over to the others. Cyan, still drawing ragged breath, had managed to push herself to a sitting position with her head held between her knees. Vermilion rested Roan up against her back, and he groaned as he started to come around. Lyohniy sat down beside her, and nudged her shoulder with his elbow.

"Hey." he smiled.

She turned towards him, managing a little smile of her own, "…Hey."

"You did it." he said.

Cyan shook her head, "_We_ did it."

Vermilion nodded at her, relief spreading across his features, "I suppose we did."

Roan clutched at his brow and moaned again.

"How's your head?" Lyohniy asked.

"I will be fine as soon as the forest stops spinning."

Cyan couldn't help but laugh, and casually turned her gaze back towards the remains of the Ursa, which were already dissolving into clouds of wispy black smoke.

Her heart froze in her chest when she saw the faint outline of a Beowolf through the haze stalking towards them from the forest's edge.

She gripped her brother's arm, and he stood up in an instant when he followed her gaze to the approaching creature. Lyohniy must have seen it as well, because he also futilely tried to stand. It was then that the nearby faint echoes of snarling reached her ears, and she frantically looked around. Eight— no, a dozen more of the creatures were emerging from the treeline one by one. They were completely surrounded.

Lyohniy slumped his shoulders, tilting his weapon downward, and made an ineffectual attempt at voicing a protest. Like the rest of them he was too tired to even think straight. Cyan looked up at Vermilion, who looked back at her almost apologetically. She shook her head and struggled to get her feet back under her. Her hands found the blade that had been lodged in the Ursa's eye on the ground near where she was sitting. Once she was up, she gripped the weapon in both hands and held it at the ready. Vermilion stared at her, noting the fury in her eyes. Then he brought his rifle up to bear and stood to her left flank, sweeping the barrel back and forth at the line slowly advancing on them. Lyohniy nodded wordlessly and stood to her right, the pain from his ankle no longer seeming to bother him. Even Roan managed to get his legs working enough to stand, and drew both of his blades in a small flourish, then stood with his back to Cyan. The four of them watched and waited as the Beowolves steadily began to close the circle, picking up speed as they did.

Just as the three that were in front of Cyan broke into a run, the ground around them was suddenly rocked by a series of violent explosions as a powerful weapon discharged from somewhere nearby. She turned her gaze in shock with the others, Beowolves included, towards the source of the blast. A lone figure stood just on the inside of the crest of a nearby hill, the barrel of a long weapon resting on his broad shoulders. He wore the outfit of a faculty member of her school, though it was somewhat torn, dirty, and stained with sweat. The next thing that Cyan recognized was the wild hair and long wispy beard of Instructor Jared.

Before she could manage to voice a response, the remaining Beowolves began to growl and bark ferociously, and several of them rushed in the direction of this new threat. Jared braced himself against the recoil, aimed the barrel, and fired again. The shot struck the center Beowolf in the middle of it's chest and sent it flying backwards half meter through the air before it exploded in flames. The rest of the creatures continued their charge undaunted, and Jared met them head on. He leapt down from the hill, swiveling the weapon off of his shoulder to reveal that he had been firing out of the heel of an enormous two-handed axe. He buried the blade squarely in the back of the neck of the Beowolf closest to the middle of the pack, and crushed it to the ground under the sheer weight of the blow. With a simple shift in grip, he beheaded the one right next to it, then swung the axe in the opposite direction, hammering a third one in the chest with the butt of the blade and knocking it sprawling. When a fourth Beowolf leapt at him from behind, Jared almost casually dropped to one knee, bracing the haft of his weapon horizontally above his right shoulder, and brought its vicious swing to a dead stop. He shoved the arm away from him as he stood back up and whirled his weapon in two complete circles. The first one tore the Beowolf's legs out from under it, and the second one swung upwards, bisecting the creature at the waist while it was still in mid-air. Cyan stood awestruck at the sight.

A snarl off to her left drew her attention, and she turned to see another Beowolf advancing on Vermilion. He tried to aim his weapon at it, but Jared fell from the air in front of him and brought his axe down on top of the creature's head. He tightened his grip and shuffled backwards enough to catch the back of its neck in the crook of his blade. With a savage roar, he spun around several times, lifting the Beowolf off of the ground and smashing it into two of its fellows before allowing it to fly into a third. With quick flourish, he settled the axe back onto his shoulder, leveling the barrel at the disoriented pile and fired another single blast. All four of the creatures were engulfed in an explosion that reduced them to little more than a pile of charred remains. The remaining Beowolves continued to snarl and swarm around Jared in a flurry of teeth and bone. Jared deftly whirled his weapon at them with hurricane-like force, and in a matter of seconds the Grimm were cut to pieces. The instructor was barely even breathing hard when he finished.

For a while, no one moved. Jared took a few steadying breaths and slowly swept his gaze around the area. Once he was certain the threat was gone, he lowered his guard and stood up straight. Before anyone could say anything, he turned his eyes towards the group.

He did not look happy.

Lyohniy's grin quickly vanished, and Cyan could hear him audibly gulp.

"Uh oh."


	9. Chapter 7

Jared slapped a pair of open palms onto the doors leading into the school training area, nearly knocking them off the hinges.

"Of all the arrogant, shortsighted, thoughtless, _boneheaded_ stunts…!"

He stormed into the room while muttering a few more choice words to describe his opinion of their day. Cyan and the other three filed into the room behind him and began to line up in the middle of the training ring. The ride back on the airship had been mostly quiet. The four of them sat at the front of the lounge, where a medic had determined that Lyohniy's injury wasn't severe, and that he should be fine after a day or two in a brace. Vermilion had spent the majority of the trip informing their Team Lead of the events that had transpired after they lost contact, as well as the everything that led up to their encounter. The spiky-haired Huntsman had listened quietly, occasionally nodding, and doing his best to hide his astonishment. Cyan couldn't quite overhear the conversations from the other students, but Roan apparently had very good ears. According to him, only one other group of students had been forced into a conflict, and they had barely managed to kill even one Beowolf, let alone three, plus one of the largest specimens of Ursa ever recorded in the area. The instructor stared at them, maintaining the same furious expression as when he had found them in the woods, but hadn't said a single word to them the entire trip.

Until now, of course.

The four of them stood there motionless while Jared paced angrily back and forth, "Seek, observe, and report: that was your objective! What were you _thinking_?"

Vermilion raised his chin and took a step forward, "I was the one in charge, sir. It was my decision to track the Beowolf instead of calling it in."

The instructor jabbed a finger in his direction, "And you think that gets the rest of them off the hook? You all knew your orders, and you should have objected. If that didn't work, you should have objected again! _Strenuously!"_

"It was one Beowolf, sir." Lyohniy said trying affect a fierce gaze, "It could have lead us to a whole pack. We thought it was worth the risk."

"That was not your call to make!" Jared shouted back, causing Lyohniy to seemingly shrink down about a centimeter in height. So much for bravado, Cyan thought. Though, to be fair, Jared was scary enough on normal days, and seemed to be in especially rare form today.

"When you make contact, you call it in." Jared repeated, "Once a Huntsman or Huntress is on site, they are the ones that decide if it's worthwhile to track the target. Going off mission like that..."

"Actually, we didn't."

Jared stopped in his tracks. The other three turned to stare at Cyan in wide-eyed stupefaction.

"...What?" Jared said with an unnervingly placid composure.

"We didn't go off mission, sir." Cyan repeated.

The instructor blinked, inclined his head to one side, and set both hands at his hips. Cyan took this as an invitation to continue.

"Not calling in the threat was a minor, but excusable, infraction. We didn't engage the enemy, we only pursued it. Which we would have had to do anyway if the Beowolf had kept moving like it did. And when it did detect us, we tried to flee, only using force as a last resort." she allowed a little smile to creep into her expression, "In other words, sir, self-defense."

Silence followed, and Cyan waited for the inevitable tirade that he went on every time she proved him wrong. Instead, he only shook his head.

And then began chuckling.

"...Sir?" Vermilion asked cautiously.

"That's almost exactly what the headmaster said to me after I told him what you'd gotten yourselves into today." Jared said with a slight scoff, "He said that you showed initiative, skill, and great resourcefulness. Never mind that _rewarding_ this behavior would only encourage it..."

Jared trailed off and continued to shake his head. Cyan felt herself relax, and the four of them glanced at each other in surprise and a small measure of delight.

"...which is why I was happy to remind him that your grades for this are still determined by _my_ evaluation!" he said, glaring back at them.

_Whoops._

He rubbed at his forehead with the heel of one hand, seemingly having exhausted himself from lecturing them. He stared into space, sighed, and turned towards them again.

"Go home." he said, "Rest up. I'll be expecting you in class again on Monday."

Vermilion didn't give a Cyan a chance to say anything else. He touched her on the back of the arm and started walking for the exit. Lyohniy and Roan quickly followed, and they let the doors click shut behind them.

"Man," Lyohniy said after exhaling a deep breath, "I don't think I've ever seen him that mad."

Cyan shrugged and started walking down the hall, "I'd give that about a seven out of ten."

"It gets _worse_?" Lyohniy said, his eyes going wide.

Roan cocked an eyebrow at her, "You have a scale?"

Vermilion put a hand on her shoulder and spun her around, fixing her with a glare, "What are you thinking, antagonizing him like that?"

Cyan shrugged his hand off and stared back confidently, "I'm showing him that not everyone is just going roll over and fall in line when he starts shouting."

Then she turned and started walking again. Not knowing what else to say the other two began to follow her.

"Fall in line?" Vermilion repeated in disbelief, and quickened his pace to get beside her, "Didn't you learn anything from today?"

"Of course I did." she said, gesturing towards the group, "We all did. We learned what we're capable of when pushed to the limit."

"We almost died!" he said, glaring at her again.

Cyan rolled her eyes, "No we didn't."

Lyohniy looked at her as though she had just said that she could fly by waving her arms, "Uh, pretty sure we almost did. I can usually spot a Grimm that's about to rip me in half. They're large and angry. And I have good eyes."

She let out an exasperated sigh, "Think about it, V: did you call in our coordinates to the Team Lead?"

Vermilion gave her a measured look, "What's your point?"

"My point is, neither did I," she made a small shrug with both hands, "so how did Jared know just where to find us if we never called it in?"

The anger slowly started to fade from his features as he considered what she was saying. Lyohniy looked at her confused, and Roan's expression betrayed no emotion.

"It's because they never lost us." she explained, "They knew exactly where we were the whole time. I'm guessing there was some kind of tracker in the scroll. We were never in any real danger."

"If that's the case," Vermilion said, "then why all the prior warnings on the during the trip?"

Cyan looked back at him as if the answer should be obvious, "Because it was a test, remember? He even said so himself."

"She might be right." Roan said softly, as if unsure of the words even as he spoke them.

"Oh, not you too." Vermilion said, with a look that was equal parts surprise and dismay.

Roan could only shrug, "You can't experience real fear if you know it's only a test."

They exited the halls, passed by the fields, and quickly crossed the street away from campus, all eager to get home. Vermilion continued to argue with her the merits of their decision, long past the point when it became clear that neither one of them would budge. Lyohniy finally spoke up when the two of them paused long enough to take a breath.

"There's still one thing I don't get, Cyan." he said, "If you're right, then what was he so angry about back there?"

Cyan sighed in frustration, and made a dismissive wave with one hand, "Since when has ever needed a reason to be angry about something?"

Lyohniy reached for the front door, only for it to open out from in front of him. Mrs. Zee stood on the opposite side and immediately snatched him into a hug tight enough to make him wince.

"Thank goodness you're all safe!" she said, quickly ushering them inside, "I heard from the headmaster. What happened? Are you hurt?"

Lyohniy winced and managed to pull far enough away to speak, "No, mom, I'm fine. We're all fine."

She hugged him again so tightly that it almost looked as though he couldn't breath. Then she held him at arm's length with both her hands on his shoulders.

"Don't you _ever_ do anything that foolish again! That goes for all of you, do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am." all of them said quickly.

Cyan caught Vermilion giving her another sour look, and she stared right back at him. With another sigh and a shake of his head, he broke off first, and began heading towards the dining room. The rest of the evening passed in a blur: a wonderful home-cooked meal, a long shower to wash away the results of several hours worth of running, jumping, and fighting for her life, followed by a few quiet minutes of reflection. She had planned on trying to get some more work done on her graduation project, but she was surprised by how exhausted she was. Her muscles ached, and every bone in her body begged her to lie down. Fine, she told her tired body, but only for a few minutes. She surprised herself again by dropping into a deep sleep almost immediately.

After she had finished breakfast the next morning, she went back upstairs to settle back into her work. The sunlight poured in from the upstairs window, and she blinked a few times until her eyes adjusted. The sky had cleared and the air smelled crisp and fresh. She drank it in with a deep breath that almost made her light-headed. Then she looked back down at her desk again, with her notes and figures, and the wooden chair which had never before looked so uninviting. Why not just take the day, a little voice in her head told her. It's not like _this_ is going anywhere. After a few more moment's consideration, she grabbed her sketchpad from the desk and headed outside.

There was a pleasant breeze in the air that pushed a few strands of hair across her face. She caught them between her fingers and ran them back behind her head as she began to walk. The neighbors greeted her as she went past, and she politely waved back before turning towards an open field. Occasionally, she glanced towards the sky, becoming lost in it for many minutes at a time. Upon reaching a lone tree near the back of the property, she settled down, running her fingers through the grass, and gazing upon the view in front of her. She took a deep breath and let it out a relaxing sigh, then took out a pencil and began drawing.

"Hey, sis! There you are."

"Gah!" she sputtered in surprise as Vermilion suddenly materialized from the tree behind her. He smiled cheerfully, his shirt lightly stained with sweat, and his hair clinging to the back and sides of his head.

"What do you want?" she said, putting as much annoyance into her voice as she could.

"Nothing." he said, "I was just wondering if you were recovering okay from yesterday."

"From the battle with the Grimm, or from my dear brother's tongue-lashing?" she said, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"Mm, both?"

She sighed, the annoyance draining from her face, "I'm fine. How about you and the others?"

He stretched his shoulders until they popped, "Actually, that's what I was coming to see you about."

Worry creased her brow, and Cyan stood up to look at him.

"I'm okay." he assured her, "Just got back from a run with Lyoh. No, it's about Roan."

"What about him?" she asked.

"I'm not sure." he confessed, "But I think he has something on his mind. He's been really quiet ever since we left the forest."

Cyan recalled the events of the previous day. Roan hadn't really said a word since they left the school. Now that she thought about it, he had seemed awfully distant, even for him.

"Did you ask him about it?"

"Well, no…" Vermilion rubbed the back of his neck, "I mentioned it to Lyoh, and we both agreed that you should be the one to talk to him."

Her jaw dropped open, "What? Why me?"

"Because you have such refined people skills." he grinned.

"Wh—you—, no I don't!" she stammered.

"No?" he said, still smiling, "Then this will be a good opportunity to develop some. Just think of it as training."

"Training?!" she almost shouted.

"Hey, guys." he said, waving at someone over her shoulder.

Cyan spun around to see Lyohniy approaching them them from the direction of the house, with Roan following closely behind. She could also see now what Vermilion had been talking about. His eyes were alert, but unfocused. It looked as if he were a thousand miles away.

"Morning." she said, affecting the friendliest smile she could manage, and hoping that she didn't sound too suspicious.

Lyohniy gave her a little wave and smiled back. Roan offered a polite nod, but maintained a neutral expression.

"Lyohniy mentioned that you needed help with something?" he said.

"Oh, that." Vermilion glanced downward, "Cyan was able to help me work it out. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Ah." he said, looking even more distant than before, "That's all right. It was no bother."

They stood around for a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

"Well then." Roan gave another polite nod, and started back in the direction of the house. Vermilion leaned forward and began whispering in his sister's ear.

_"He's leaving."_

_"I see that." _she snarled quietly.

_"So say something."_

_"Like what?!"_

_"Improvise!"_

"Roan!"

He stopped at the sound of his name and turned to face her, wearing a curious expression on his features.

"I... that is, I was," she fumbled over her words, and then reached for the first thing that came to her mind, "...going to head into town later and see if I could pick up a few things. You know, for my graduation project. Do you want to come with?"

"Certainly." he said.

_Huh… that was easy, _she thought.

"What time?" he asked.

"Oh, well..." she turned around to see that her brother had, at some point, carefully slipped her sketchbook from her grasp.

"I can put this back for you. I promise not to disturb the mess this time." he said with a wink.

She narrowed her eyes at him and said, "Right now... apparently."

He gave her another simple nod as his reply, and stepped to the side. When she walked forward he fell into even step beside her. She was able to steal another look over her shoulder to see Vermilion wearing a broad grin, nodding his head, and giving her a "two thumbs up" sign. She scowled at him once more, then quickened her pace.

They walked in relative silence until the tree-lined fields gave way to paved rounds and the familiar buzz of traffic. Cyan occasionally glanced in Roan's direction to find him rather intently studying his surroundings. It was a rather unusual habit of his, always appearing to be on alert for danger. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume he really was expecting some kind of trouble, but after observing how he carried himself during an actual life-or-death situation yesterday, there were certain cues she was looking for that were currently not present.

"So," she said, "nice day out today.", and almost immediately winced in regret.

"Mm", Roan nodded in reply.

_Brilliant_, the voice in head told her.

"What did you need to pick up?" he asked, once again somehow managing to not look directly at her.

"Oh, right." she said, suddenly remembering the excuse she had used to bring him out here, "I've hit another wall with my project. I know the design is sound, but I just can't make the energy calculations work. I want to try out a new Dust mixture to see if that makes a difference."

A sudden thought occurred to her, and she looked up at him. "Are you having any trouble choosing a project?"

"No." he replied, "I found something suitable during my orientation."

Cyan felt her head droop, "It was that easy, huh?"

"After a small self-assessment," he said, "examining my current limits, potential areas for growth, and considering personal strengths and weaknesses, the choice comes as naturally as..."

His voice trailed off when he glanced down to see her becoming more dejected with each word he spoke. He quietly cleared his throat and shut himself up.

"Wouldn't it be simpler to choose from the current schematics, rather than attempting to design and build something from scratch?" he asked.

Cyan shrugged and said, "Sure, but then it wouldn't be mine. Besides, Dad always used to say that anything worth doing is difficult."

The memory brought a little smile to her features, and she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of happiness that came with it. A sign hanging from an awning just ahead of her drew her attention away from her thoughts.

"Here we are." she said, and pointed towards the door.

They approached the corner shop and Cyan suddenly became aware of a number of passersby who were slowing down and staring in her direction. She felt herself start to blush, until she noticed that they weren't looking at her, but rather at Roan. One or two of them put a hand over their mouths and began to lean towards whomever it was they were walking with, ostensibly to whisper something to them that wouldn't be overheard by anyone nearby. When she glanced in Roan's direction again, she saw one of his ears twitch and a small line form at the corner of his mouth. Slowly he reached backward and pulled the hood from his sweatshirt over his head, his distinctive Faunus ears disappearing beneath the fabric. Then Cyan began to get angry, and turned her glare towards one group of onlookers in particular, all of whom quickly averted their gaze and moved on their way. Her irritation didn't go with them, and she began to wonder why people insisted on being so ignorant. Roan reached the door first, and held it open for her. She smiled to him and headed inside.

The store sprawled out before them, much larger on the inside than the humble street entrance would suggest. The walls were lined with several dark tubes that were filled with highly refined Dust in powdered form, each one emanating it's own distinct glow, and carefully labeled with signs that clearly identified the composition and contents with additional warnings to ask for assistance before touching it. Spiral staircases evenly spaced along the sides of the room led upwards to an interior balcony floor, which contained a small lounge along with shelves lined with books and periodicals containing much of the currently known information on the history of Dust and its myriad of uses. The center of the first floor had a number of glass display cases, which contained row after row of Dust crystals, some natural, but most with a wide variety of faceted cuts. A pleasant looking elderly man in a simple brown apron smiled at them and offered his assistance as they approached.

"Hi," Cyan said, "We're both students at Herald. I was hoping to get some supplies for my graduation project." she produced a small, plastic school identification card with her name and picture on it and handed it to the clerk, and indicated to Roan to do the same, "Do you have a mixing station I could use?"

The man peered closely at both cards, then nodded with a smile and directed her to an area on the lower floor towards the back of the shop, telling her to ask if she needed help with anything. She thanked the shopkeeper and moved through the rows of bookshelves. Roan's eyebrows lifted when he noted the prices posted around the store.

"How are you able to afford any of this?" he asked.

"Oh, I can't." she explained, "The school has a portion of the budget set aside for each student to cover expenses. They want to encourage creativity, supposedly. Once we become full-fledged Huntsmen and Huntresses, we'll be responsible for our own supplies, and I guess they want us to get used to the process now."

"But where does the school get the money from?"

Cyan thought about it for a moment, then said, "I'm not really sure. Government grants, maybe. What we do is a public service, after all."

Roan considered this with a nod, and Cyan turned her attention towards the enormous monitor in front of her. She inserted her school I.D., and the display flickered to life with a welcome message, which she dismissed with a single press of the touch screen. After navigating a few menus, she was greeted with four three-dimensional models, each depicting the molecular composition of a particular Dust element. She touched another control that reopened a data file, and another fiendishly complicated model that she had been working on for the last two days was displayed in the center of the screen. She manipulated the screen with both hands, bringing some of the images together, which would combine into new patterns of varying levels of complexity. Roan quietly observed the process with fascination.

"What are you doing?" he said.

Cyan touched the fingertips of both hands to one of the images and spread her hands apart apart to enlarge it, "Trying to come up with a formula that will power the design I'm working on. You know about the four basic Dust elements, right?"

Roan nodded, "Fire, water, earth, and wind."

Cyan pointed to one of the models, "Each of them has their own unique energy, and they react differently when combined together. You can adjust the type and intensity of the reaction through the different combinations."

He continued to nod along silently, causing Cyan to briefly wonder if he was even following what she was saying.

"It looks like there are a lot of other factors to consider." he said, pointing to a list of figures streaming down the right-hand side of the display, "Density, reaction speed, molecular stability. The inherent steric effects in each new compound also need to be considered, if they will necessitate more complex methods of synthesis in order for further polymerization to occur."

Cyan blinked in surprise, "That's right. In the right environment, you can create compounds that would never occur naturally. But if the reaction is too unstable, the compound will break down immediately after synthesis, or burn itself out before you can channel the energy into anything meaningful." she smiled up at him, "You catch on pretty fast."

He looked back at her, his otherwise neutral demeanor breaking into a faint smile of his own. They worked at the station for nearly an hour. Actually, Cyan did most of the work, while Roan watched and occasionally pointed out potential problems as he spotted them. She had gotten so caught up in the work, that she had nearly forgotten the real reason she asked him here in the first place. He didn't seem to mind, though his expression was extraordinarily difficult to read. At last, they were left with two differently sized models. Cyan took a deep breath in anticipation and slowly touched a finger to the screen, dragging the smaller compound into the larger one. The two models flickered and combined into one composite structure, and the monitor ran several automated calculations which resulted in a series pleasant beeping tones.

Her features lit up in a smile, then she looked over at Roan. His eyes were trained on the display, and it took a moment for him to notice she was looking at him, after which he returned her smile with one of his own. She had to make an effort to keep up her own expression when she caught sight of a group of four people coming down the stairs from the second floor. The one in the back noticed her almost immediately and directed the group in their direction.

She hastily touched another control that ejected a small printout of their work on sheet of paper, and held it out to Roan, "Could you give this to the shopkeeper and ask how long it would take to work up about three kilograms? I want to run a few more tests."

"Sure." Roan took the slip of paper and headed towards the front of the shop. Cyan turned back around and pretended to operate the touch screen again, watching the approaching group out of the corner of her eye. The four of them exited the staircase on the bottom floor, and their most direct path towards her took them in the opposite direction Roan had gone, reaching her just as he had gotten out of sight. As they approached, she swiped a hand across the screen to clear the images and snatched her I.D. out of the console. She then turned around and started to walk away, stopping short as though she had just become aware of their presence.

"Cyan, fancy running into you here."

She let out a great sigh and glanced up at the boy in front, "What do you want, Jet?"

He directed that cocky, smug grin of his down towards her. The faint scent of flowers reached Cyan's nose, and she flicked her gaze to Autumn who was standing on his left. Standing next to her was another girl with platinum blonde hair done up in a crown braid, and a blue-white long-sleeve shirt and dress. She watched Cyan with the eyes of a hawk about to swoop down on its prey. On Jet's right stood a positively enormous boy with short, spiky hair the color of sand. He bulged with muscle underneath a simple tan shirt and cargo pants. She didn't recognize either one of them.

Jet took note of her eyeing the two of them and said, "Ah, how rude of me." he then gestured towards the girl, "Cyan, this is Eira," and next directed his hand towards the boy, "and Dune. We met on the transport during the field trip, and agreed to partner up for the mission."

Eira regarded her with roughly the amount of interest as she might an insect that she had just accidentally stepped on. Dune kept his arms folded in front of him, and puffed out his chest, clearly attempting to make himself look as imposing as he could. Cyan stared upwards at Dune for a long while. He stared right back without so much as a twitch.

"What?" he said at last, in a gruff baritone.

"Sorry," Cyan said, "I was just thinking that this is an odd place for the architect to put a wall."

Dune blinked and flicked his gaze back and forth between her and the other three in confusion, "Huh?"

"Load-bearing, too, I see." she added with a smirk.

It seemed to register on some level that he was being insulted, even though his face was devoid of comprehension. He leered over her and said, "You wanna stand on a chair and say that to my face?"

Cyan couldn't stop a grin from spreading across her face, and fought to contain her laughter, "Oh, wow. Jet, he is just precious. Is he house-trained too?"

Dune snarled, unfolded his arms, and took a step towards her.

"Please, Dune. Let's be civil." Jet said, placing a pacifying hand on his shoulder. The larger boy scoffed, but backed down. Jet then turned back towards Cyan, produced a scroll from his coat pocket and said, "I didn't get the chance to congratulate you on your performance yesterday. You really made quite an impression."

"I don't do autographs." she said.

Jet glanced down at the scroll and grinned, "Oh, this? No, no, this is just something I wanted to share with you. The field report and student evaluations submitted by Instructor Jared."

This time Cyan did laugh out loud, "Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

He smirked, and a devilish grin spread across Autumn's face as she said, "You'd be surprised what the headmaster leaves behind after a dinner party when your family makes as many donations to the school as Jet's does."

Suddenly, the idea didn't seem so ridiculous anymore. Cyan fixed Autumn with a level gaze as Jet slowly, almost casually, touched the unlock button and turned on the display. He swiped a finger downward, scrolling through several long blocks of text looking extremely pleased with himself, "Let's see now... ah, here we are: 'Zee Lyohniy. Excellent martial abilities. Headstrong, lacks initiative, senseless risk-taker', and, oh my, 'academically challenged.' Well, that's rather generous."

The four of them shared a round of quiet laughter. Cyan could feel the anger starting to build from deep inside of her, but she said nothing, instead continuing to stare up at Jet as laughed his sickening laugh and scrolled further through the text.

"Oh yes, Shikari, Roan." he said, "This one was most interesting: 'Shows great physical prowess, impressive knowledge and skills for someone his age, but displays instincts and reflexes unbecoming a Huntsman. Given the choice, he will flee and hide from the threats he should be meeting head on.'"

She felt her heart sink at the words he read. It wasn't so much the words he was saying as it was knowing in her gut that he was telling truth. Worst of all, she surmised, was that this wasn't the first evaluation Jet had gleaned from the faculty. He knew about this all along. This is what he had meant by what he said back on the airship.

"And, Athelward, Vermilion. So disappointing."

Cyan's eyes widened, and she fought to keep her expression neutral. No matter what he said, she would not give him the satisfaction of...

Jet took an especial delight in reading the next entry out loud, "Immense potential, acquires new skills at an astonishing rate, but constantly holds himself back. Cares more for his younger sibling's success than his own. "

Cyan felt her breath quicken, and the anger that had been festering inside her began to boil over.

"Shut up." she said through bared teeth.

Jet thumbed the screen and scrolled through the text again, "Would you like to hear yours next?"

"I said, shut up!"

She lunged at the scroll, but Jet only laughed and deftly spun on his heel, lifting it away from her incoming hand. She then felt someone grab her by the collar and drag her backwards. Dune's huge meaty fist wrapped around her shirt and he pulled her about a centimeter away from his face.

"Really, now. Stop embarrassing yourself." Jet said through his laughter.

"Yeah." Dune said with a sneer, "We're tryin' to be civil here."

Cyan glowered back at him, her eyes narrowing on his, "You're going to want to let me go. Now."

"Ha!" he let out a boisterous laugh, "Am I s'posed to be intimidated? 'Cause I sure don't feel intimidated."

Instead of responding with words, she flicked her gaze to a spot just over his shoulder. Before Dune had a chance to react, Roan suddenly appeared out of nowhere right beside them, swung his hand upwards, and knocked Dune's grip loose. Before anyone could even speak, he vanished and reappeared directly behind the larger boy and grabbed his now flailing arm at the wrist, twisted it backwards and pinned it behind his back. In the same motion, he thrust a heel into the back of Dune's right knee, knocking it out from under him, and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around his throat. His yelp of surprise came out as a strangled gasp.

Cyan stood up straight, and smoothed the creases out of her shirt, "Give it a moment. It'll set in."

Dune grabbed at his neck, trying to pry Roan's fingers away, but this only made him tighten his grip further.

"Get... off," he choked the words out as best he could, "...get him off!"

Both Autumn and Eira shifted forward as though they were about to intervene. Roan spun his head sharply to glare at them. At some point during the assault his hood had fallen down, and Cyan could clearly see his gray eyes flashing an unspoken threat.

"Really, now. Stop embarrassing yourself." she said smugly.

Jet curled his lip, closed the scroll, and put it away, "Alright, I do believe you've made your point. If you please...?"

"Why, certainly." Cyan said in a tone of mocking civility, "Roan?" she paused until he met her gaze, "Break his arm."

Dune's eyes widened in sudden apprehension, and he tensed as though he really expected him to do it. For just a moment, so did Cyan. Roan quirked an eyebrow towards her, and she did her best to convey the sarcasm in her words. He then directed one last snarl at Dune as he released him, twisting his arm just enough to push him off balance as he moved away. He glided next to Cyan, while Dune managed to get back up to one knee and struggled to breath through his bruised throat.

"Let me make this clear." Cyan spoke slowly and held a vicious edge to her voice, "Stay away from my brother. And stay away from me. If you bother any of us again, no amount of 'donations' will be able to help you."

The usual pomp and conceit had vanished from Jet's features, and he regarded Cyan with a hard steely-eyed stare, but remained silent.

"Let's go." she said to Roan, without taking her eyes off of Jet.

Cyan walked forward between Jet and Autumn, both of whom shifted just enough to allow her through. Roan followed right on her heels, watching all of them carefully for any signs of movement. No one budged until the two of them made it out the front door. Cyan stopped just outside the door to exhale her held breath, and felt herself starting to tremble as her survival instincts set in.

"Are they moving yet?" she said, continuing to stare straight ahead.

Roan looked at her, then turned his head to look in the window, "...Yes." he said cautiously.

"OK." Cyan gave a single slow nod, "Run."

"What?"

She spun on her heel and took off down the street. After a moment's hesitation, Roan followed her. They didn't stop until they were several blocks away. They both leaned up against the side of a nearby building and panted heavily. Cyan looked up at Roan, who looked back at her in confusion. She shook her head and started laughing in a spontaneous release of nervous tension. He watched her, but remained silent until her laughter subsided.

"The shopkeeper said that he can place your order today, and have it ready for you by Monday afternoon." Roan said.

Cyan raised an eyebrow, tilted her head to one side, and couldn't help herself from laughing again. This only served to compound his confusion. She patted him on the shoulder and started in the direction of home.

"So tell me something." she said Roan after a few minutes of silence, "What Jet read from that evaluation, is it true?"

Roan didn't look at her. If he was at all surprised by the fact that she was aware he had overheard the conversation, it didn't show.

"Instructor Jared seems to think so." he replied solemnly.

"Uh huh." Cyan gave him a knowing nod, "Well I suppose you would know, if you're as big on self-assessments as you seem to be."

She continued watching him out of the corner of her eye, and saw his gaze drift towards the ground.

"I thought so." she said, "Is that what's been bothering you?"

Roan sighed deeply, and stared off into the distance as he responded, "Ever since I was young, I was taught that running and hiding is the only way to survive. After so many years, I'm afraid that it's all I know. For a while, I thought perhaps I could fit in at your school, but now I think that Instructor Jared might be right."

"...What a load of crap."

Roan turned his far-off stare towards her.

"You didn't run and hide in the shop just now." Cyan said, "You might have run in the forest, but you sure didn't hide. When it came down to it, you fought to save us."

His normally carefully guarded expression vanished as he screwed up his face in thought, "But… that was different. We… I mean, you all are…"

Cyan started to get it.

"Living outside the kingdoms, you must have lost a lot of people you were close to, right?"

A look of pain and regret crossed his features as he nodded.

"If there was anything at all you could have done to save them, would you have done it?" she asked.

"Of course I would."

"Well now you have the chance." she said, "Don't think about you. Think about the people you could have saved. And the people you _will_ save."

They walked in silence for a long time as he considered what she had said. Gradually, the far-off stare faded from his eyes, and they were slowly filled with a renewed sense of purpose.

"I understand." he turned and smiled at her, "Thank you, Cyan."

She felt herself blush a little bit and nodded, "I should be thanking you. For the save and the formula." her lips turned up in a confident smirk, "Just wait. The next time Jared is looking over our shoulder on a mission, we'll really give him a show worth watching."

Roan unexpectedly slowed his pace. Cyan glanced up and saw a strange expression on his features. It was as though he wanted to tell her something, but wasn't quite sure how to do it.

"Cyan." he said, his voice growing quiet, "The instructor was not watching us."

Confusion blanketed her features, "What are you talking about?"

Roan continued, "As Jet opened the scroll, I could see the beginning of the field report. The instructor wrote that he didn't leave the airship until after our transmission was cut off, at which point he tracked us, alone."

"That's ridiculous!" she said, "How could he have possibly found us if he didn't already know where to look?"

"Apparently, that's what makes him special." Roan said, "His Semblance allows him to locate the aura of anyone he has come into physical contact with."

"Contact? What do you—"

Her thoughts suddenly whirled backwards to her first day of after school drills. She had closed her eyes to concentrate, and Jared had helped calm her… by resting both of his hands on her shoulders.

A cold, sick feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach. She felt her breath become so shallow that it almost made her dizzy to stand. Before now, the prospect of death had never seemed real to her. Somehow, she thought that all of the Grimm attacks would miss, and the fury of teeth and claws would all sail right past her. But just like that, it was now real.

And it frightened her.

A thousand questions raced through her thoughts all at once, and none of the answers she could come up with made any sense. She felt herself begin to curl the fingers of her hand into a fist.

"Cyan?" Roan said, a pang of worry in his voice.

Her mind drifted out of her thoughts, and she looked down to see that was clenching her hand so tightly it had begun to tremble. She relaxed it, working the sensation of numbness out of her fingers.

"It's nothing." she said, and smiled up at him, "Let's go home."

He returned her smile with one of his own, and another simple nod.

Cyan insisted on leaving much earlier than usual the following Monday. While they were not the first students to arrive at campus, they got there with nearly half an hour before the first class would begin. After telling the others that she would catch up with them in a little while, she began to make her way through the empty halls. At first she considered asking another member of the faculty for assistance, but after giving it some thought, she realized there was only one place he would be…

As she approached the doors to the training room, she could hear the familiar sounds of inside. The sounds of someone rapidly shuffling across the training mat, and the grunts of exertion reached her ears. She paused, and pushed open the door to find Jared twirling one of the heavy wooden polearms overhead in the midst of a warm-up exercise. He slapped the end of the staff down on the mat with a heavy thud that echoed throughout the room. His movements abruptly stopped when he caught sight of her in the doorway.

"Well, this is a surprise." Jared said, still panting, "I didn't think you got up this early."

Cyan stared at him, unable to say anything. She had spent nearly an hour the day before working out precisely what she wanted to tell him in her head, but now that she was here in front of him, she hesitated. The righteous anger she had worked up was draining away, and she couldn't understand why.

"I…" she began, then just as quickly stopped.

A look of concern came across his face, "What is it?"

She set her eyes in a scowl and nodded to herself, then said, "That pack of Beowolves in the forest, when you found us. You vanquished them all like they were nothing."

He stared through her, trying to see through her line of reasoning, "I might be just an instructor here, but I am still Huntsman. No matter how many years might pass, that training never goes away."

"So then all this time, during training, you were holding back." she said, looking away, "I never really had a chance."

"A chance at what?" Jared said, "Of _winning?_ In a fair duel? Of course not."

She found her anger again, and glared up at him, "Why? Our enemies won't go easy on us in the real world! So why hold back in here?"

He seemed genuinely surprised by this, "Maybe so you'll live to actually see the real world?"

As much as it frustrated her, she didn't have an answer for that. Cyan paused and turned away, taking a short breath to collect her thoughts.

"Then tell me this." she said, mustering all the indignation she could, "No one at this school cares about being here more than I do. Maybe I pick it up more quickly, but I still practice and train as much as any of them."

She stepped towards the ring, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, "But you've been on my case since the first day I came here! Why?!"

The hard glare that she had grown so accustomed to suddenly vanished from his features, being replaced by something that she could almost mistake for affection.

"The truth is I knew you were different the first time I looked into your eyes." he said, returning her stern gaze with his own, "It was like looking in a mirror. You're special, Cyan."

Her mind went blank and her mouth fell almost to the floor. Despite her best efforts, the torrent of emotions she had worked up inside of her began to dissolve.

"Then why are you so hard on me?".

"Because one day you're going to become a great Huntress." Jared walked forward, and gently rested a huge hand on her shoulder, "But the only way that's going to happen is if you have every drill down better than everyone else. At the academy, there's no room for mistakes. Understand?"

She did understand, and felt a single tear begin to well up in her eye. She nodded, but couldn't bring herself to look at him. Jared seemed to sense this, and gave her a gentle reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before turning to walk away.

"You should get to class now. The first lectures will be starting soon."

She nodded again, and headed in the other direction.

"Sir…?" she said, pausing at the open door.

Jared stopped and faced her again, waiting for her to continue.

"Would it be alright if I stay after class today? There are some techniques that I was wondering if you could help me with."

For the first time since she had known him, Jared smiled.

"Of course."

A tiny sensation of joy surged through her, and she found herself bringing a hand to the corner of her eye again, "Thank you, sir."

Then she let the door close behind her and hurried down the hall.


	10. Chapter 8

Cyan wiped a single bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, and hunched over the desk again. After finishing with her after school training, and Instructor Jared had left for the day, she had made her way to the workshop. When she had first started, she harbored some serious doubts that she would ever see her project completed, but after picking up her order from the Dust shop last week she felt strangely inspired somehow. She attributed it to the small measure of victory she'd found in finally creating a satisfactory compound, and had come here every day since to finally begin the real work. The first step was sculpting the molds out of a mixture of sand and clay, and setting them out for a week to dry, then firing them in a kiln to harden them. The next step required the use of a forge to pour liquified scrap metal into her desired components, then, with the help of an actual weaponsmith, ensure they were properly shaped and tempered. The assembly would have to come later, since there were a number of parts that she would need to weld together, and, as with the forging, the faculty was understandably leery of allowing the students to attempt that step unsupervised.

The other reason for putting that step off for later was that she also needed a control unit to facilitate the weapon's transformations. This proved to be the most challenging part of the project, given her energy needs. After several days of research, she happened across one of the Schnee Dust Company's latest designs for a Multi-Action Dust Rapier, and decided to use its servomotor as a baseline… with some modifications of her own, of course. It required her to draw up her own circuit board, and then solder it by hand. Compared to the rest of the process, it wasn't difficult work, but it was slow and tedious, requiring a great deal of precision and concentration. She took a steadying breath, and touched the tip of the iron to the to the component wire again, drawing a careful measure of liquid metal onto the board. When she was finished, she finally exhaled and set her tools down on the desk, then she picked up another small device with with a two-pronged metal lead attached by a cable. She flipped a switch on the on the device and touched the lead to a diode on the circuit board, running a current through it. One by one the various LED's flickered to life, and the needle on the reader jumped into the optimal range. Cyan grinned in triumph, and turned to face Vermilion, who had been approaching behind her. From his expression, he clearly expected to take her by surprise again, but after only a week of her additional training she had started to become much more in tune with her surroundings.

"You seem pleased with yourself." Vermilion observed.

Cyan invited him closer to the table, and displayed the results of the volt/ohm meter test for him, "It works."

Vermilion watched the device, then shook his head in amazement, "It's hard to believe how far along you've come."

"Aw, you mean you doubted me?" Cyan teased, "I'm hurt."

He laughed, and playfully tussled her hair. She reached up and swatted at his hand, but he pulled it away before she could make contact. She then hastily straightened the mess he had caused.

"I just came by to see if you were ready to head home. It's almost dinner time." he said.

Cyan cast a longing look down at the table, "There's still a little more I could do. Besides, I'm not even—"

A long, loud rumbling suddenly erupted from the pit of her stomach. Vermilion inclined his head to the side and blinked at her. Cyan felt herself blush all the way to the roots of her hair.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" he said, "I didn't quite catch that."

She gently patted a hand at her stomach, then shot another glare towards her brother and said, "Hush, no one's talking to you.", and then pushed her stool back from the work station.

They raced home just in time to see Roan putting the finishing touches on the table setting. The two of them quietly slipped into the dining room, hoping to avoid being noticed. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work, but not for the reason Cyan thought.

"Well it's about time!" Mrs. Zee snapped over her shoulder, "Where—"

She stopped when she turned around, and the look on her face told Cyan that she was expecting someone else.

"Oh! I'm sorry, dear." she said, and turned back to the stove, "Have you seen Lyohniy? He was supposed to be home hours ago."

Vermilion shook his head, "Not since lunch."

"I've been in the lab since classes let out." Cyan said.

Mrs. Zee sighed, "Have a seat, it's almost ready."

The two of them took a seat across from Roan as Mrs. Zee brought in a large steaming pot of something that smelled wonderful.

"Roan, what have I told you about working at the dinner table?" she scolded.

His ear twitched, and he glanced up at her with a guilty expression on his face, "I'm sorry."

It was only then that Cyan noticed he had a pen in his left hand, and had been writing on something in his lap. He slipped a piece of paper between his hands and began to fold it in half.

"What's that?" Cyan asked.

Roan glanced at it briefly, "Oh, it's nothing. I was just making a few notes. For my graduation project."

Cyan's eyes lit up, and she was at once overwhelmed by curiosity, "Can I see it?"

Roan handed her the folded paper. She studied the illustration closely, but became puzzled by some of the notes he had written around the margins.

"You're altering the firing mechanism." she said, "It's only going to be useful for recoil boosts. Small ones, at that."

He nodded at her, "That's correct."

She passed the paper to Vermilion when he inquired after it, then said, "But you won't have any ranged capability at all. What if you can't reach your target?"

Roan lifted both of his eyebrows and gave her a blank stare as his reply. It didn't take long for her to realize what she had just said.

"Alright, fine." she said with a roll of her eyes, "But what if you don't _want_ to reach your target?"

He looked down at the table in thought when he realized he didn't have an answer.

"She makes a fair point." Vermilion said with a knowing grin, "Like, say, for instance, when it could cost you an arm?"

Roan seemed taken aback, "I was only trying to fulfill my part of the plan, as you instructed."

"I said to get the magazine in its mouth, not shove it down its throat." Cyan said indignantly.

"I wanted to be certain."

Vermilion continued chuckling and shaking his head.

"You know what?" she said, making a gesture as if to physically push the topic away, "Never mind. I have another idea. How good is your throwing arm?"

The other two looked at her curiously, but before she had a chance to explain the front door flew open, and someone jogged inside, panting heavily from exhaustion.

Mrs. Zee placed one hand on her hip and regarded him with irritation, "Well look who finally decided to come home! Where have you been? And what are all those bruises?"

Cyan looked up in surprise and peered closely at Lyohniy as he moved to sit across from her at the table. He had a tiny gash on his chin, and his face was pocketed by a number of large, fresh-looking, welts. He touched a hand to them, and then rubbed the back of his neck, "Sorry, Mom. I stayed after with Instructor Jared. Guess I got a little careless. It's not as bad as it looks."

Mrs. Zee studied him carefully, then shook her head and turned back around to the counter next to the stove, "Next time, call me and let me know where you are."

"I will." he said quickly, then spooned a generous helping of the stew out into a bowl in front of him.

Cyan continued to stare at him, then leaned over the table and whispered low enough so that Mrs. Zee wouldn't hear, "No you weren't."

Lyohniy flicked his eyes rapidly between her and the kitchen, "Weren't what?"

"_I _was working with Instructor Jared." she said, narrowing her eyes.

He stifled a laugh, "_You?_ Yeah, right."

"Believe it." Vermilion said, sounding as surprised as Lyohniy, "Ever since last Monday."

"And I didn't see you." she said.

"And I didn't see _you._" he said back, returning her critical stare with one of his own, "So I guess I found him after you left."

"I don't think so." Cyan retorted, lowering her voice even more, "He went home as soon as we were done."

Vermilion nodded, "I walked with him to his car before I went back in to meet her."

"So what were you really doing?" Cyan demanded again.

Lyohniy pressed his mouth closed, as if to bite back his words, "Minding my own business. Why don't you try it some time?"

Cyan's mouth gaped in shock. In all the years she had known him, he had never once snapped at her like that. He sat back in his chair, and refused to look at her for the rest of the meal. The expression on Vermilion's face told her that he had noticed it as well, however Mrs. Zee picked that moment to join them from the kitchen. He and Roan both made an effort to fill in the evening with polite conversation, something for which Cyan was exceedingly grateful. What could possibly have been on his mind, and why he didn't want to talk about it? She continued to dwell on his words for the remainder of the night, and well into the next day at school. Lyohniy said nothing to her the next morning as well. As much as she wanted to confront him about it, her instincts told her not to. It wasn't until after lunch, when she shared a class with Vermilion, that he finally was able to speak with her about it. He slid his chair next to hers at a table towards the back of the room. Given that the rest of the student body typically gave her a wide berth, it allowed them to speak without interruption.

"Hey," he said, keeping an eye on the instructor to make certain she didn't overhear, "You okay?"

Cyan shook her head, and continued to stare forward, pretending to pay attention to the lecture.

"You still thinking about Lyoh?"

She nodded.

Vermilion exhaled, "So am I. What do you think is going on with him?"

"I have no idea." she said quietly.

Actually, that wasn't true. At the very least she had a theory, based on her encounter with Jet at the Dust shop a few weeks prior. But she didn't want to say anything without having a chance to confirm it. Though, how exactly she was going to do that was something else altogether.

"Did he say anything to you?" she asked, hoping to hide her suspicions.

Vermilion shook his head, "Not a word." and then looked up in thought, "Though come to think of it, I—"

"Mr. Athelward!" a voiced boomed from the front of the room.

"Yes, ma'am!" he said as he bolted up from his chair, hiding his surprise as best he could.

The instructor crossed her arms in front of her and said, "Is there an important personal matter that you need to address?"

"Not at all. Just comparing notes." he said.

"Ah." she said back at him, taking a small step to the side, "Then perhaps you'd like to share your analysis on the subject with the rest of the class."

Vermilion tightened his throat and swallowed as he stared at the board. A dizzying array of complex calculations covered well over two-thirds of it. He moved his eyes rapidly across the board, and the room fell into silence save for the muffled laughter from a few of the other students. Cyan sighed, and was about to raise her hand when her brother suddenly spoke again.

"The energy density necessary to propel a shot the required distance and still achieve penetration against a Nevermore would be no less than 3.87 megajoules per kilogram."

Cyan lifted her eyebrows in surprise, as did the majority of the class. The instructor looked back and forth between Vermilion and the board behind her.

"That's correct. Well done." she turned back to the board and lifted her pen, "Now, to in order to stabilize a reaction of that strength—"

Vermilion exhaled his held breath and sat back down.

"Showoff." Cyan whispered to him quietly.

"What?" he grinned, "I can do two things at once."

She shook her head dismissively, "You were saying?"

"Right." Vermilion gathered his thoughts again, "I was going to say that he's been different for the last couple of weeks. This disappearing act of his? It's been getting worse."

Cyan chewed her bottom lip and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Just today," he said, "I haven't seen him since lunch. We were supposed to have a class right after that but he never showed."

A look of shock came across her features, "You don't think...?

They stared at each in silence for a moment, the only sounds of the instructor droning on in the background, carrying on the remainder of the conversation without a spoken word.

Cyan pushed her chair backwards, and started quickly for the door, "I'm sorry. I need to use the restroom."

The teacher was able to get out a single word of protest by the time Cyan made it out of the room. She and the rest of the class all turned to look at Vermilion, who shrugged as innocently as he could.

"Cafeteria food?"

Cyan made her way down the hall, carefully avoided the gaze of any members of the faculty she encountered, trying to make herself look as ill as possible. Once she was away from anyone who might be watching she turned a corner and headed for the nearest exit. The sunlight glared down on her once she pushed the doors open, and she ran all the way to the edge of the campus before stopping. It wasn't until she was about to step off of the sidewalk that she realized how foolish this was, and that she had no idea where she thought she was going.

"We should go left."

This time she managed to conceal the startled yelp as her brother's voice came down just behind her shoulder again.

"I didn't tell you to follow me." she said as she glared at him.

"You didn't have to." he said and started jogging down the street.

She found a strange comfort in the words. It was almost enough to make her forget how annoyed she was. Almost.

"How do you even know where you're going?" she said, quickening her pace to keep up with him.

"You know Auric?" Vermilion replied.

"From your chem lab?"

He nodded, "I passed him in the hall on the way out. He had an athletics class after lunch, and he mentioned that he saw Lyoh take this street towards the city."

"Great. Thanks. You can head back now."

She pressed ahead of him, but he almost effortlessly matched her pace.

"You bet." he said, then shot one of his knowing looks down at her, "Right after you tell me what's really going on. Or what you think is going on."

Cyan glared back up at him, and he stared right back. A flurry of angry words made their way towards the front of her mind, but she pushed them away with a sigh. Perhaps she really was too easy to read.

"I want to talk to Lyoh first." she said, turning her attention back to the street.

Vermilion nodded and led the way without another word. They crossed two blocks before slowing to a brisk jog, and Cyan signaled to her brother to follow her down a side street.

"Why this way?" Vermilion asked.

She didn't respond to him until they had made it well away from the sparse midday pedestrian traffic.

"Look around." she said, inclining her head towards the surrounding area, "Recognize where we are?"

He glanced at the streets and buildings around them, and his face brightened in recognition, "This is where we first met Roan."

"Exactly." Cyan said with a nod.

"What about it?"

Cyan explained, "Remember how Lyoh said that he was talking a shortcut home when he came across the gang?"

"...Not really." Vermilion admitted.

Cyan rolled her eyes and continued, "Well this isn't much of a shortcut, is it?" she gestured towards the thoroughfare again, "It's pretty much the most direct route from the campus to his house."

Vermilion examined the area as he considered this, then slowly nodded in understanding, "So if heading this way was a shortcut… where was he coming from?"

Cyan left her brother and paced across the street to the spot where the encounter had taken place. She knelt down and gingerly touched her fingers to the sidewalk near a dried patch of blood on the ground where Roan had been laying. The memories of that day began flooding back to her. Things had changed for all of them, far more than she had been willing to admit. As she recalled the fire and everything that had transpired inside her house, she felt herself curl her fingers into a fist. She took a deep breath and shook the memories away, focusing herself back on the present. Vermilion met her eyes when she looked back up at him, and he followed her gaze over his shoulder to the alley behind him. The two of them exchanged an affirming look, and headed in that direction.

"It's still not much to go on." Vermilion said, his expression uncertain.

Cyan shrugged, "It's a place to start. Unless you have another idea?"

He shook his head, and they continued down the alley until it opened up into street. They quickened their pace and headed another block in the same direction until Vermilion shook his head again.

"We don't even know what he was doing here that day. He could be anywhere in the city right now. He might not even be in the city. He could be—"

"Over there." Cyan pointed to a spot just ahead of them across the street.

Vermilion stopped, then followed her hand to see Lyohniy walking away from them on the other side of the street, with what looked like a small child next to him.

"...right over there." Vermilion finished, and threw up his arms, "Sure, why not?"

Cyan peered closer at the two of them. The much younger boy next to him wore a plain white shirt with dark slacks, had a mop of bright yellow hair, and a nervous look on his face. Lyohniy patted his back reassuringly as they continued down the sidewalk.

"Who's he with this time?" she asked.

"I'm not sure." Vermilion said, "That looks like a school uniform, but he's too young to be a student at Herald. I feel like I've seen him somewhere before."

Cyan considered this for a moment, "C'mon, let's follow them."

Vermilion nodded, and they trailed the pair down the streets for another few blocks. She was just about to suggest that they call out to him, when a group of six men stepped out of an alley just in front of Lyohniy. The boy immediately stopped, his eyes going wide with fear, and Lyohniy placed a hand on his shoulder and moved to step in front of him. The men were big, tough looking, and at least one of them was carrying a pistol strapped to the inside of his jacket that Cyan recognized from one of the weapon magazines. From what she could tell, it looked to be illegally modified too. The look in Lyohniy's eyes told her that he had noticed all of this as well, but he nonetheless remained assured of himself.

Vermilion took a step forward, getting ready to intervene, but was surprised when Cyan held up her hand to stop him.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked.

"I want to see what he does first." she replied.

They ducked into the closest alley and crouched behind a dumpster. Suddenly she became aware of an intensely rotten odor coming from somewhere in the bin that almost made her retch. It bothered her that in order to smell a thing, small particles of it had to first travel through the nasal passage and be sampled by the olfactory system. Whatever was making that smell, she didn't like the idea of microscopic bits of it going up her nose. She fought the sensation of nausea away and tried to focus on what was happening across the street. They seemed to be arguing about something, and the one closest to Lyohniy turned his back to him, presumably to confer with his fellows without Lyohniy overhearing.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" she said quietly.

Vermilion stood to lean around the corner farther and strained forward as far as he could before shaking his head, "No. If he would just turn his head a little more..."

He paused when the one Lyohniy was talking to started to laugh, and then studied him more closely.

"I think Lyoh just said he wants to meet someone."

Cyan looked at him, then back at Lyohniy. What was he getting himself into?

The one in front abruptly turned back around, nodded in the direction of the small boy and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. Lyohniy nodded then turned and knelt down, clasping a hand around the boy's shoulder in a reassuring manner. With a smile, he spoke something to him that neither Cyan nor her brother could quite make out, and the boy nodded and began running past the group down the street. The man sneered, and turned towards the alley they had previously emerged from, signaling the rest of them to follow. The other five thugs surrounded Lyohniy, and together the group disappeared in the shadow of the buildings. Cyan and Vermilion nodded towards each other, then hurried across the street after them.

They trailed them to a fenced-in property consisting mostly of a large red brick building attached to the end of a manufacturing plant. The facility itself had been mothballed, with most of the equipment stored in the warehouse next to it, largely forgotten as the city expanded in other areas. The six men walked up towards the door, and knocked. After a short conversation with whoever was on the other side, four of them led Lyohniy inside, while the other two turned around and stood on either side of door, keeping an eye on their surroundings while trying, and failing, to look inconspicuous. The twins split up and circled the outside of the area once before meeting back up on the other side.

"Just those two." Cyan said.

Vermilion pointed his arm in a half-circle motion, "There's four more by the loading dock. Could be more inside."

"They don't look that tough." Cyan said, "We can handle them."

"Maybe," Vermilion replied, "But we don't know what's going on in there. We might put Lyoh in danger."

Cyan frowned. That was actually a very good point. They contemplated the situation in silence for a few minutes before Cyan looked up at her brother.

"Hey V," she said, a sly grin spreading across her lips, "you look a little lost."

His shoulders slumped as he frowned down at her, "Why do I have to be the decoy?"

She patted his shoulder gently, "Because you have such refined people skills."

He lowered his eyelids at her in a half-scowl.

"And because I need to talk to him first, remember?"

He sighed heavily and nodded. Then he took a deep breath, gave the two thugs on the door one more measured look, then spun around on his heel and walked blithely out of the alley straight towards them. He glanced around at one building after another, before letting his gaze fall upon the two men standing by the side entrance.

"Excuse me!" he called out while walking towards them, "Do either of you know where Pine Street is?"

The two thugs stared blankly at Vermilion for several seconds before the one on the left waved a hand in his direction, "Not around here. Beat it."

"Aw c'mon," Vermilion said, continuing towards them, "I've been circling this block for like forty-five minutes now. Are you sure?"

The one on the right unfolded his arms, and they both stepped away from the door, "What are you, deaf or something? I said get lost."

_Just a little bit farther,_ Cyan thought.

Somehow Vermilion affected an even more sympathetic tone and glanced at the man on the right, who had yet to speak, "Well maybe he knows? I'm supposed to meet my friend. We're going to see Weiss Schnee perform at White Castle tonight. I can't miss that. The tickets cost me an arm and a leg."

The thoroughly irritated thug stepped close enough to roughly grab Vermilion by his collar, "_I'm_ gonna cost you an arm and a leg if you don't scram in the next three seconds!"

Vermilion put both of his hands up defensively and continued to protest. Meanwhile, Cyan darted out from behind the trash bins and stood flush up against the fence. In that same instant, Vermilion deliberately stumbled to one side, putting the thugs between himself and his sister. As soon as they turned their backs to her, she leaped over the fence and ran for the building. The door had been left unlocked, and she quietly turned it in her fingers and slipped inside.

The bottom floor of the warehouse was piled high with several rows of large wooden shipping crates of various sizes. She could hear several voices coming from the front towards the loading dock, and crept softly in that direction. Light from the overhead lamps illuminated the center of the room, where Lyohniy stood, talking to a group of five other men. No one involved looked particularly happy. Cyan took cover behind a nearby crate and inched closer to the group to hear what they were saying.

"Who is he?" the one closest to the middle of the group asked. He was a tall, gangly fellow, with plain unassuming features, black hair worn in a buzz cut, and arms that looked like they didn't belong on his body.

"I don't know, boss." the one to his right said, "Some idiot askin' for directions to the Weiss Schnee concert?"

"Aw, man, that's tonight?" said another one to his right.

The rest of the group all turned to stare at him, and he looked down at the floor in shame.

"Well go get rid of him then." the boss ordered, and two of the men filed out of the room. Cyan swallowed as she watched them leave, and hoped that her brother would be able to get away quickly enough, and that she wouldn't be needing his help with whatever happened next.

"And as for you," he pointed back towards Lyohniy, "You've got guts walking in here after what you pulled. So I'll give you one minute to say something interesting before I have the boys get rid of you too.

Lyohniy maintained a respectful posture, but took a confident step forward when he answered, "I'm just looking for some information."

"And what am I, a library?" the boss said with a sneer, "Even if I knew something that you want to know, why should I want to tell you?"

Lyohniy set his jaw tightly, "I'm not asking for free."

"Yeah, you don't look like you can afford my rates, kid." the boss replied, his smirk widening with each word.

"I wasn't offering money…" the words trailed off, as Lyohniy seemingly just realized what he was agreeing to. Cyan felt her jaw fall open from shock.

The boss folded his arms and lifted his eyes in an increasingly amused expression, "A favor, eh? Now, you're saying something interesting."

Cyan couldn't stand it any longer. She rapped her fist against the crate as she stood up from her hiding place and boldly walked towards them, "And now he's leaving!"

A stunned Lyohniy turned his wide-eyed stare in her direction. The boss and one of his remaining goons did the same. The other's hand disappeared inside his coat as his eyes carefully measured the threat she presented.

"What—?! How the—! Who—?!" the boss sputtered as he tried to decide on the most effective threat.

"Cyan—!" Lyohniy blurted out, and immediately clamped his mouth shut in regret.

"Who?" the boss said again.

The man on the right pointed at her and nodded emphatically, "Oh yeah, remember? From the fire at the Athelward place on TV a while back. She ran right into the burning building. Told you she was cute."

The boss screwed up his face in bewilderment, as he and his other associate turned to stare at the man again, "Lawrence, you are some kind of special snowflake, you know that?"

Once again Lawrence hung his head in shame. Cyan resisted the urge to heave from disgust as she placed herself between Lyohniy and the other three men.

"What are you doing here?!" Lyohniy whispered in her ear while the men were still distracted.

"Leaving. And so are you." she said, and started pushing him towards the door. He stumbled backwards a number of steps while, apparently trying to decide if it was a good idea to resist her.

"Okay, that's it." the boss said, "Take your girlfriend and get out. And don't let me, or my boys, see your face near our business ever again."

"She's not my—" Lyohniy said, and then stopped.

"I'm not his—!" Cyan said simultaneously, cutting herself off at the same moment Lyohniy did.

The two of them met eyes, and she forced herself not to blush with embarrassment, "Leaving. Now."

He continued to try and protest, "But—"

"No buts." she interrupted again, then briefly looked over her shoulder at the boss, "He's very sorry to have wasted your time, and promises that you won't be seeing him again."

The boss huffed out his displeasure and started to turn away.

"Yeah, get lost." Lawrence added snidely, "Unless you want another 'accident' to show up at your door."

At that instant, the whole world stopped. The only way he could have possibly put more emphasis on that word was if he had made actual air quotes when saying it. Cyan immediately froze in place, her hand still resting firmly on Lyohniy's chest. He looked down at her eyes again to see the wild torrent of emotions was surging just beneath the surface of her neutral expression. Her breathing had grown so shallow that it almost seemed to stop.

"...What was that?" Cyan asked quietly.

Lawrence tried his best to look intimidating, but for some reason it just came out weasley, The boss glanced in her direction again, "You have a hearing problem too? He said get lost before—"

"I heard what he said," Cyan said, "but he didn't say it right."

Confusion fell upon everyone in the room, but especially so on the thugs. Cyan clarified herself, adding a definite edge to her voice, "What makes you think it wasn't an accident?"

"Are you serious right now?" the boss said, "It was all over the news."

"...where it was reported as an accident." Cyan finished, taking another slow step in the group's direction.

The man on the left kept his hand inside his coat, and except for Lawrence they had given up trying to look menacing.

"Well…" the boss searched for the right words, "I heard talk..."

Cyan gradually continued to close the gap, and studied him carefully as he spoke and then shook her head, "No you didn't."

The boss stumbled over his words again. Lyohniy noted the expression on Cyan's face before taking a step back himself.

"Buddy?" he said.

The boss looked over Cyan's shoulder in his direction.

"You done goofed."

Lawrence lurched forward, and in a panic, swung a wild punch in Cyan's direction. She leaned her head to the side, allowed the hand to pass by her within an inch of her face, and fired off a single return blow that knocked him sprawling across the floor where he lay groaning in pain, all while continuing her slow unbroken stride across the room. The other thug snatched the pistol from his jacket and began leveling it in her and Lyohniy's general direction. Before Lyohniy could so much as blink, Cyan was on top of him. She grabbed his outstretched wrist and dislocated it with a sharp twist, then removed the weapon from his grasp. As he fell to his knees and clutched at his hand, she worked at the weapon in a blur of motion; first she ejected the magazine and dropped it to the floor, then removed the slide, and then the receiver, the hammer, and continued until she had disassembled the weapon entirely. She didn't give the man long to stare at it, and hauled back with another punch that sent him careening into a nearby crate where he slumped unconscious. The boss almost tripped over his own feet as he stumbled backwards in shock.

"Hey!" he shouted towards the loading dock, "Get in here! Now!"

Lyohniy tensed, turned towards the door and adopted a more defensive posture, lifting his hands to his sides. Both he and Cyan gazed towards the loading bay. Nothing but silence followed. Everyone stared at it, and waited.

"What's wrong with you?!" the boss demanded again, "I said everyone inside!"

After several more seconds of silence, there came a thud from the other side of the closed metal shutters as someone took hold of them at the bottom. With a series of creaking groans, the doors slowly rose from the ground. On the other side of them stood Vermilion, panting heavily, and bracing himself with one hand against the bottom of the shutter, holding both it and himself up. He had a few bruises, his shirt was torn in several places, and he looked exhausted. But he wasn't nearly as bad off as the gang members who were lying on the ground around him.

"Seriously," he said between breaths, "Have you heard her sing? I am not missing this."

This time the boss did fall over as he backed up. Cyan smirked at her brother, then turn back to her slow and steady advance. He backed up to a crate, and raised his hands in front of him. She reached her own hand between them and grabbed his shirt to drag him up to her.

"Now tell me what you know!" she shouted, raising her other hand behind her in a fist.

"Alright already!" the boss said, "One of my boys was heading into the city, and he said he saw a bunch of guys leaving the Athelward place right before it went up."

"What guys?" Lyohniy said, moving to stand next to Cyan.

"I dunno, alright?" the boss shrugged as best as he was able, "Black clothes, black tactical vests, and a big SUV."

Cyan looked over her shoulder at Vermilion, who had made his own way inside. He shared her surprise, but also had a question of his own.

"What else do you know about them?" he asked.

"Notta thing."

Cyan hauled the man upwards and grabbed him with her other hand, then threw him over her shoulder onto the hard concrete floor. He grunted in pain as she twisted his arm behind his back in a joint lock.

"Okay! Ease off!" the man winced, "We're pullin' this job, see? We're going to hit that Dust shop down on 12th Street. There's a guy paying a fortune for any Dust that gets delivered to him."

"He didn't ask about your personal life." Cyan growled, and tightened her grip, "You have one minute to tell me something interesting."

"When I went to set up the drop off!" he said quickly, "I saw those same guys there. Black combat fatigues, big SUV. Those same guys were taking a payment him!"

"From who?!" Cyan shouted, and twisted again.

"Argh!" the boss ground his teeth, "Torchwick, alright?! Roman Torchwick!"

She slackened her grip, allowing the boss to catch his breath. Vermilion walked around the two of them to kneel down and speak to him face to face, "And where do we find him?"

"I don't know where he is!" the boss replied, "He contacts us! Never meets in the same place twice!"

Vermilion met eyes with Cyan again and nodded. She yanked up on his arm and tossed the man in a heap on the floor nearby.

"Right now you have two problems." she said to him, "You're 'boy' over there threatened my home. And that Dust store you're going after? That's where I get my supplies."

The boss got a defiant look in his eyes as he stared up at her. She smirked and looked over her shoulder at Lyohniy and Vermilion.

"We're done here." she said, "Fine a phone and call the police," she paused briefly, then added, "and an ambulance."

Vermilion stopped and turned back towards her, "An ambulance?"

She nodded, then turned back to the boss and cracked her knuckles, "This guy's in bad shape. A few broken bones, dislocated shoulder..."

"Huh?" the boss said.

"Yep." she confirmed, "A shipping crate fell on him."

His eyes went wide as he tried to crawl away.

The police went to work for a long time after they arrived. Between the time spent cordoning off the area, rounding up the gang, and collecting evidence, the three of them were left on their own for quite a while. Cyan glanced at Lyohniy several times, but she could never get him to look directly at her. The police had taken their statements individually, no doubt to be certain their stories all matched, so she still wasn't completely sure of everything that had led him down here. At last, a man with brown hair worn in a short neat cut, sporting a full day's worth of stubble, and dressed in business casual approached the three of them. Vermilion had spotted him when he first arrived, and told her that he was the one who had been investigating the house fire, and had visited them while she was still in the hospital.

"Detective Greene." Cyan said as he got closer, "Nice to finally meet you."

It took only a moment of study for his features to dawn in recognition, "Hey there, kiddo. It's good to see you up and around."

Despite his genial tone, he wasn't really smiling.

The detective looked them all over, took out a small, spiral bound pocket notebook and said, "Okay, I need to go over your statements again."

The three of them looked at each other and nodded once.

"Like I told the other officer," Cyan began, "I wasn't feeling well, so I decided to head home early."

Vermilion nodded in agreement, "We were worried about her, so we decided to make sure she got home safe."

"Yep" Lyohniy said.

The detective looked at his booklet, then back at them, "Uh huh. And how did you find these guys?"

"They just came at us." Lyohniy said. "Out of nowhere."

"Chased us all the way to the warehouse." Vermilion said.

"And that's where the crate fell on him?" Greene tilted his head towards a spot over his shoulder.

"During the fight, yes." Cyan confirmed, "Self-defense. We were afraid for our lives."

Greene cocked an eyebrow at her, then slowly turned his gaze towards the thugs that had already had their injuries treated, as well as the ones still waiting to be evaluated, and then to the paramedics wheeling the boss's unconscious body quickly towards the ambulance on a gurney.

"...Uh huh." he said, "And, exactly how many shipping crates did you say fell on him?"

"You know, it all happened so fast." Cyan pursed her lips and shook her head slowly, "I lost count."

The detective sighed and rubbed the fatigue away from his eyes, "Alright, stay here. Once we're done I'll get a patrol car to take you home."

They all nodded silently, and Greene politely excused himself. Cyan turned her eyes back to Lyohniy, who still refused to look back at her. This time though instead of looking away, she burned into him with her eyes until she was certain he had noticed. When he still refused to acknowledge it, she leaned in and punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" he yelped in surprise, and rubbed his hand over the point of impact, "What was that for?"

"That was for worrying me sick!" she said, "Street gangs, armed robbery, _favors_? What is the matter with you?"

"It's not like that." he said as a line formed on his brow, and he looked away again, "I just didn't think you'd understand."

She sharpened her glare, "Well then explain it to me until I do!"

Lyohniy took a deep breath and blew it out, "It's like this; you know Auric?"

Cyan turned her head in surprise towards Vermilion, who nodded in apparent understanding and said, "That boy you were with was his little brother, wasn't it?"

Lyohniy blinked at him, "Geez, how long were you following me?"

"What does he have to do with this?" Cyan asked.

Lyohniy gestured towards the gang, "Those guys had been after Auric for months now, trying to recruit him. When he said no, they started harassing his little brother. Jumping him on his way home from school."

Vermilion filled in the rest, "And you agreed to start walking him home. I thought it was strange how he just happened to see you leave today."

"So how did that work out for you?" Cyan said rhetorically.

Lyohniy winced, "I handled it at first. But every day they just kept sending more and more guys. Today I told them I'd back off, but I wanted to meet the boss first."

"Why did you want that?" Vermilion asked.

It came to Cyan in that moment, "Information. You were investigating the fire."

Her expression softened, and Lyohniy couldn't think of anything else to say.

"What made you think that they would even know anything?" Cyan inquired.

He tried, and failed, to meet her gaze as he responded, "I figured the White Fang were behind it. I mean, c'mon; we kick their butts, save the guy they were after, and the next thing you know your home is on fire? I thought if anyone could help me find out where they were, it would be someone like him."

"That's... certainly a thought." Vermilion said as politely as he could, "But for the White Fang to find out who we were, and where we lived, in the time it took us to walk home from where we encountered them is a little unlikely."

Lyohniy's expression faulted as he considered this.

"And besides," Cyan added, "You were there first. If they were behind it, wouldn't they have gone after your house too?"

"Aw, man." Lyohniy rubbed his eyes, sighed, and slumped to the ground against the fence, "So that's why you're mad?"

She shook her head and knelt down beside him, "I'm not mad that you were trying to help. I'm mad that you didn't tell us what you were up to. How are we supposed to be a team if you don't trust us?"

Lyohniy scowled and stared straight ahead. Cyan watched him carefully for a moment, then took him by the arm and pulled him up to his feet.

"V, go wait over there." she said.

Vermilion looked dismayed, "What for?"

"V..." she said, giving him a look.

He folded his arms and huffed out a breath, then turned his attention towards the police activity behind them and walked casually in that direction. Cyan led Lyohniy a few steps away, still in the same general area they were told to by Detective Greene to wait, but far enough that she was certain they were out of earshot. She turned to face him, resting one hand on her hip. For the first time all day, he stared right back at her.

"You've been telling Vermilion and I stories about your dad for as long as we've known you." she said, "'My dad was so tough, my dad was so brave, my dad never quit.' And I kept hearing over and over again how much the two of you were alike. Did his determination only go this far, too?"

He focused his scowl on her, "What are you talking about?"

"How are your grades right now?"

A pang of guilt washed over his features. Lyohniy unfolded his arms and looked down again, "...Bad."

Cyan gestured at him with both hands, "So that's it then? Things get a little bit harder than you thought they would and you're ready to walk away? You promised me that you'd stick with us while we tracked down Dad's murderer."

"I'm not walking away from that." he said, his voice growing harsh, "I'll still help..."

"How?" she demanded, "Teams are four members each. If you don't graduate with us, we'll wind up with someone else at the academy. How are we supposed to explain all of this to them? Or should we just ditch them whenever we think we have a solid lead?"

"Or maybe you'll be better off." he said with a scoff.

Cyan was stunned, "And how do you figure that?"

He threw up his hands in exasperation, "Oh, come on! I'm not like you or Vermilion, and you know it. Or even Roan. Shoot, he'd never been to a combat school before a day in his life, and he already gets this better than I do."

Cyan folded both hands across her waist, "And what in the world would make you think that matters?"

He met her eyes, and she softened her expression again, "Maybe you're not as smart as me..." she caught herself on her words, and hastily added, "...us. So what? You're more than a teammate, you're my friend. I promised you that no matter what I'd let you help. Well, that goes both ways. If you're falling behind, we'll have to catch you up."

"How?" he said.

"Starting tomorrow," she said with a confident grin, placing both hands on her hips, "I'll tutor you."

Lyohniy looked down to her with eyes filled with doubt, "What if I still don't get it?"

"Then we'll keep at it until you do." she reassured him.

"But—"

She pointed the finger of one hand at him to cut him off, "No. Buts."

He stared at her in silence for a while. Slowly, his mouth spread into a small grin, and Cyan could see a fire return to his eyes.

"Okay." he nodded.

She smiled at him, and patted a hand on his shoulder as she walked back towards her brother. Vermilion watched them carefully as they made their way back over.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

Lyohniy cast another glanced in Cyan's direction and smiled, "Yeah. We're good."

He then stretched a closed fist in Vermilion's direction, "Sorry I've been such a jerk lately."

Vermilion returned his smile, and bumped the outstretched fist with one of his own.

"It looks like it might have paid off." Cyan mused, "We have a name."

"Indeed." Vermilion gave her a nod, "Roman Torchwick." he said the name slowly and carefully, as if sampling it for texture, "Ever heard of him before?"

Lyohniy shook his head, "That's a new one to me."

"I'll ask Roan tomorrow." Vermilion said, "Even if he hasn't heard of him, he has a knack for finding information."

Cyan smiled at them both, and turned her gaze up towards the evening sky. She imagined Dad looking down at all of them, and sent up a silent promise in return. No matter what, they were going to find out the truth. Little by little, the pieces would come together, and they would follow the trail however far it would lead.

One small step at a time.


	11. Chapter 9

_One year later…_

Water poured from the bathroom faucet, and Cyan felt her hands tremble from from the spike in temperature. She thoroughly rinsed them, ran her fingers through a towel until they were suitably dry, then stared up at the reflection in the mirror in front of her. Slowly, she turned her head back and forth, holding portions of her hair tightly between her fingers and examining it closely for a moment before letting it fall, only to repeat the process with another grouping in almost the same spot. After careful consideration, she lifted up a small pair of scissors from the edge of the sink, pulled the most recent bundle of hair back tightly and snipped a small length from the end of it. Then she let it fall free and turned her head again, studying the results intently. It was surprisingly delicate work, even considering everything else she had done, and she had to make an effort not to stare at any one spot for too long for fear of being overwhelmed by anxiety. Instead she focused on her breathing, slowing it to an almost ritualistic rhythm. She made the turning of her head part of the ritual as well, focusing on the whole instead of the insignificant flaws within the smaller portions of it. With another deep breath, she turned her head to the other side, gathered up more strands, and moved the scissors slowly towards it again.

And then a sudden pounding erupted from the closed door about a foot away from her ear.

Cyan snatched the scissors away before her startled jolt could do any real damage and then shot a glare at the door, "You know, there _is_ more than one bathroom in this house!"

The knocking continued, and was soon joined by Lyohniy's voice, "Yeah, I know. I already used it. So did Vermilion. And Roan. What's taking you so long?"

She once more clipped a carefully measured lock from the ends of her hair before frowning at the door again, "I said I would be a while. I'll be done when I'm done."

"We're gonna be late, you know."

With another irritated sigh, Cyan ran the fingers of both hands over the top of her head, smoothing her hair between them. With each pass she wrapped it tighter, and then spun a simple black elastic tie around it, flush against the back of her head. Her first effort was entirely too tight for her liking, so she pulled it free and started again. It took another two tries before she managed to get it at the correct height and appropriate level of comfort. All the while, the knocking continued almost incessantly.

"Alright, already!" she snapped, and the noise abruptly stopped.

Once she had finished with the tie, Cyan picked her pendant up from its resting place near the edge of the sink, and fastened it into place around her neck. Then she inhaled as she stared at her reflection again, and let it out slowly. This was about as good as she was going to get without a second opinion. She took one last calming breath, turned the knob on the bathroom door, and stepped out into the hall.

Lyohniy stood less than a meter away talking quietly with Roan, whom she guessed had come to investigate what all the noise was about. Lyohniy had cropped his hair even closer than normal, and was wearing a finely groomed mustache with a thin patch at his chin, which accentuated his facial features quite well. Roan had trimmed away much of his normally free-flowing gray locks and wound the remainder into a tightly knotted braid about as thick as his finger that stretched from the back of his neck to about the top of his shoulderblades. The two of them stopped their conversation and watched Cyan as she approached.

Where before her auburn colored hair had fallen to a bit below her shoulders, it was now cut short enough that the tip of her ponytail just barely reached the back of her neck. The front had been trimmed into two long bangs that fell to her chin on both sides of her face. While the hair in front maintained it's normal color, her ponytail had been dyed a golden yellow blonde, which faded to a soft orange where her hair met in the middle.

"Well?" she asked nervously, "What do you think?"

Roan nodded once and made a small sound of approval, causing Cyan to roll her eyes and wonder briefly why she was expecting any other response from him. Lyohniy on the other hand stared at her in silence with his eyes wide and his jaw hanging open. After a moment of this, Cyan started to feel awkward.

"...Wow." he said at last.

Cyan broke into a grin as took a step closer, gently wrapping her right bang around her fingers, "Really?"

"Y-yeah!" he said, fighting through nervous laughter, "You look… I mean...", he repeatedly stumbled over his words, and Cyan felt herself starting to turn red, "That is so—"

All of the sudden, he stopped and his smile vanished, replaced by a strange wide-eyed look of concern. He opened and closed his mouth several times without saying anything, and kept glancing around the hall as though the words he were seeking might be found somewhere in it.

"Functional." he said at last, with all the enthusiasm of an afternoon weather report.

Cyan blinked at him, letting her hand fall to her hip as she tilted her head in confusion.

"...It's 'functional'?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him.

He nodded his head vigorously in an apparent attempt to regain his earlier avidity, "Yeah, you know, it won't get in your way so much like this."

She gave him a hard stare, and was certain she saw a visible gulp, "Gee, thanks. That was certainly first and foremost on my mind when I decided on this."

She then spun on her heel to storm off down the hall and immediately bumped into her brother. Vermilion wasn't looking at her, but rather in Lyohniy's direction with his brow furled almost in a scowl. He dropped his expression when he glanced down at her and started to speak, but Cyan shook her head and brushed past him in a huff. He watched her go, then turned back towards Lyohniy, raising an eyebrow at him again.

"...What?" Lyohniy shrugged as innocently as possible.

Vermilion held the gaze for a moment longer and then turned to walked down the hall. It wasn't until after he had left that Lyohniy noticed Roan staring at him as well, his expression relatively blank, save for his eyes which were slightly lifted in amusement.

He returned his stare and shrugged even harder, "What?"

Roan said nothing, and they followed the others down the hall.

Mrs. Zee was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs and she met Cyan in the middle of the room with one of her signature hugs.

"Oh!" she said, a smile beaming out from her, "Come and let me see you."

Cyan once again felt herself flush from being put on display, and she looked at the ground while turning in place for her.

"You look wonderful!" Mrs. Zee exclaimed again, pulling her into an even tighter hug.

"Thanks." she tried to say, but it only came out muffled.

When Lyohniy descended the stairs with Roan, she released her bear hug and turned her attention towards him.

"Look at you." she said, admiring his finely trimmed features, "So much like your father."

Lyohniy smiled and touched a hand to the lapel of his coat, "You think so?"

She nodded, and Cyan glanced in his direction. Instead of their normal uniforms, they had all taken advantage of the option to wear an outfit of their choosing. Lyohniy for his part, had kept it simple: his forest green duster over a white sleeveless shirt, with tan colored cargo pants and black laced combat boots. Roan was wearing a new hooded shirt that Mrs. Zee had presented to him last night for the occasion. It was a combination of dark blues and reds along the chest, with a dark leather jacket layered over the top. Both sleeves had been removed up to the shoulder, giving him the range of motion he desired. He completed the ensemble with a new pair of blue jeans belted at the waist and tucked into simple gray boots that reached his knees, covering them with protective pads.

With the four of them assembled downstairs, Mrs. Zee turned her admiration to the group, "You've all come so far. It feels like yesterday you two were just moving in down the street" she said, shaking her head in a mixture of pride and disbelief.

Cyan felt herself start to blush again, then blinked as a pair of cases sitting against the wall in the living room caught her attention. They were large, durable looking things with metal bands lining the edges.

"What are those?" she asked.

Mrs. Zee turned and tried to hide the grin spreading across her face, "Those are for you and Vermilion. A present from Conroy."

Cyan exchanged a look of surprise with her brother, and they both followed Mrs. Zee into the room. She took hold of the handle and with great effort managed to scoot the larger of the two cases a few inches across the floor, before Lyohniy made it close enough to take the case from her, easily lifting it from the floor with one arm. And then lifting the second case with his other arm. Cyan couldn't help but admire how strong he had become. Not just physically, either. He had come a long way with his tutoring as well. It had been difficult at first, as Cyan had expected it to be, and there had been more than a few times where he had wanted to give up. But their collective stubbornness had paid off, and after a month or two it was like a wall had been broken down. Once he had drilled the basics of Dust theory into his head, the rest started falling into place. Soon he was reciting formulas, recalling Grimm statistics, and even calculating trajectory better than her, Vermilion, or Roan ever could.

"From Dad?" Vermilion's question pulled Cyan out of her thoughts.

Mrs. Zee nodded as Lyohniy set the cases down at their feet in the middle of the living room, "He told me about it some time ago." and she looked towards Vermilion, "It's something he always intended to give to you when you graduated."

Vermilion looked between her and the case in front of him as he knelt down to undo the clasp and swing the lid open. Inside was a layer of foam insulation, and removing that revealed a deep crimson colored breastplate. It featured large pauldrons that interlocked across the middle of the chest, and gold-colored engravings on all the seams. A pair of gauntlets in a similar style with plates that covered the elbow were also inside the case, along with greaves and a small layer of chainmail that completed the set. The suit itself looked clean, though well-worn, and all of the leather straps and buckles were brand new. It also looked to have been recently fitted. Vermilion stared silently into the case in front of him.

"What is it?" Roan asked.

"An heirloom." Vermilion replied quietly, "I've seen it in old photos. This was our great-grandfather's during the war."

The room fell silent as Vermilion lifted the breastplate from the case and nodded approvingly towards it.

"And this is for you, Cyan." Mrs. Zee indicated the yet unopened case, "Conroy had it commissioned just before he…" her voice trailed off in a note of regret, and she shook her head, "It wasn't delivered until just this morning, and I wanted to give them to you together."

Cyan didn't wait for her to finish. She knelt down and hastily undid the clasp on the case, and removed the top layer of insulation. A gleaming cerulean breastplate with layered bands of metal on the shoulders and sturdy looking tassets lay inside, along with a forearm protector and arm guard for her off-hand, and a pair of buckled boots that came up to just below the knee. It was designed in a similar manner to Vermilion's, but with a bright silvery trim, and the whole of it was polished almost to a glow. Cyan ran her fingers lightly along the surface, and was surprised to feel how cool it was to the touch.

"It's perfect..." she said, swiping her hand at her eye to catch a single tear that was threatening to fall. She caught Vermilion smiling broadly at her from the corner of her eye, and couldn't help but return it with one of her own. She wanted nothing more but to run back upstairs and put it on, but she also remembered the time. Lyohniy seemed to sense her line of thinking, and began heading for the front door.

"C'mon, already!" he said, "You can change into it when we get there. Let's go!"

With Roan's help, they closed the cases again and hoisted them outside to the present Lyohniy had received yesterday. A two-door convertible coupe, cherry red, sat on the gravel of the driveway just behind Mrs. Zee's van. Cyan could see a twinkle in Lyohniy's eyes as he looked at the car, and it made her grin. Of all his accomplishments over the last year, he hadn't seemed quite so proud of any of them as this one. The car wasn't exactly brand new; the paint was faded, and there were more than a few dents, but according to Lyohniy this only added to the character. Considering the lengths he expounded on what it was capable of to the three of them the night before, he was far more excited about its performance than its appearance. His enthusiasm had come as quite a surprise to Cyan, and it made her wonder when he even found the time to learn so much about cars. Lyohniy opened the trunk and stored both cases inside, but before he could make it to the driver side door, Mrs. Zee wrapped her arms around him in another massive hug.

Lyohniy winced and laughed, "Mom, come on."

"I'm sorry." she chuckled, shaking her head, "I'm just so very proud of you. All of you."

Despite his protests, Lyohniy couldn't keep the grin off of his face. Cyan stood next to him, her brother right by her side. Mrs. Zee admired them both, "You're father would be proud of you as well."

Lyohniy smiled again, "Thanks mom."

Suddenly her expression turned forlorn, and her eyes took on a serious look like Cyan had never seen before.

"The path you've taken is a dangerous one. And I hope you know that there are a lot of people who have gone even farther than you and and haven't made it." her voice trailed off with a deep sigh.

Cyan said, "Don't worry. We'll be careful. I promise."

Much to her surprise, Mrs. Zee began to laugh, "I don't want you to be careful, child."

They all blinked once and stared at her, and she gave Cyan a sly grin, "I want you to kick butt."

After a few seconds of silence, they burst into laughter, and with one final goodbye all piled into the car.

Cyan spent most of the ride in silence. She tried to allow the gentle caress of the wind clear her head, but her thoughts continued to focus on one thing. On the one hand, she supposed it spoke well of her determination that she should continue to obsess over her objective so thoroughly, but any joy she might have derived from that fact was more than overshadowed by her annoyance at their lack of progress.

"Roan?"

He craned his head back from the front seat to look at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Did you learn anything new?"

He sighed and recounted the information for her, "Roman Torchwick. A minor thug with suspected ties to half a dozen different criminal organizations. Apparent connections in the international business community as well. Arrested three years ago on breaking and entering charges. Escaped custody and hasn't been seen since."

It was Cyan's turn to sigh, "So the same as yesterday?"

"And the day before." Vermilion said from the seat next to her.

She rubbed her hands on her temples and let out a frustrated growl, "It's been a year already! Why is one person so hard to find?"

"He is very clever." Roan said, "And patient. We must be too if we hope to locate him."

Vermilion nodded, "Whatever he's up to, he's clearly playing the long game."

"We'll find him." Lyohniy said simply, and without a hint of doubt. That made Cyan smile, and she settled back contentedly in her seat.

"Besides," Vermilion said, "We have more important concerns today, don't we?"

"If you say so." Cyan replied with a shrug.

Vermilion frowned, "It's technically part of our graduation."

"It's 'technically' a formality." she said back at him.

"It's more than that," he insisted, "It's proof that we've taken in everything we've been taught so far and put it into practice. Not to mention presenting it to the academy headmasters that will be attending."

"Plus it's a chance to show off." Lyohniy added, "I'd have figured you'd be all over that."

Cyan's mouth fell open, "I do not enjoy showing off!"

The other three exchanged long looks.

"Right." Lyohniy said, "Not even during that presentation you did where you mathematically disproved Natural Combinant Dust Theory?"

"I worked really hard on that!" she said with all of the righteous indignation she could muster.

"Or that time you perfectly replicated one of Instructor Jared's advanced combat exercise routines after only one day?" Vermilion asked, working hard to keep from grinning.

Cyan felt herself start to flush, "It wasn't _that_ difficult…"

Roan, who had been studying something on a ringed binder in his lap, said without looking up, "Or the time you—"

"Okay! Enough already." Cyan scowled at them and folded her arms.

Lyohniy snickered in triumph, and Vermilion grinned as he said, "Look on the bright side: this time it's not only permitted, but encouraged."

"And rewarded." Lyohniy added, still looking entirely too pleased with himself for Cyan's liking.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Vermilion's hand start to reach for her, and she readied herself to swat at him when he tried to pat her on the head again. Much to her surprised, he instead rested it on her forearm and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

She looked over at him, and he said with a smile, "Don't worry so much. You're going to do great."

It surprised her how much he reminded her of Dad.

"I'm not worried." she said almost reflexively, and it came out a little snappier than she meant it to.

"Of course." Vermilion replied with a patronizing nod, and settled back into his seat.

Cyan turned her head away and briefly considered muttering something about how annoying it was when he pretended to know what she was thinking. She stopped when she realized that, for some reason, she found herself more comforted than annoyed. So instead she simply smiled back and nodded, then proceeded to take his advice.

They spent the remainder of the car ride in relative silence, and Cyan let her mind relax and drift from one thought to the next. Once they arrived at the school and parked, the twins retrieved their respective cases from the trunk. Both Cyan and Vermilion needed to change, Roan indicated that he had to put some finishing touches on his own project, and Lyohniy needed to speak with Instructor Jared. They bid each other a tentative farewell and headed in opposite directions. The locker room was almost devoid of activity, and Cyan guessed that everyone else must be at the auditorium right now. That suited her just fine, as it gave her more time to concentrate. Even as Cyan dressed herself in her new armor she continued to allow her mind to relax, focusing on nothing but the steps necessary to prepare herself, just like Jared had taught her to do. She hadn't stayed after school with him for well over a month, what with all the preparations he and the rest of the faculty had to attend to. What had started as a punishment had become such a routine part of her life that it felt strange not to be doing it. Her mind started to drift to one of their last sessions.

It was cold in the the training room, as it normally was. Cyan had usually been too busy working up a sweat to feel it. But this time she was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, and her fingers interlaced in her lap. In front of her were three small wooden footstools, with a different color faceted crystal resting on each one. Her breath went in and out in slow and measured rhythm as she focused all of her attention on the blue one in the center. She and Instructor Jared had discovered, almost by accident, that as her Semblance began to affect a Dust crystal, it would start to glow. With most of the overhead lighting turned off, the room was occasionally bathed in a mixture of colors that waxed and waned with each breath she took.

"Concentrate." the instructor's voice floated softly in her ears from somewhere behind her.

She shut out absolutely everything of her except for the dull warmth coming from the stools in front of her.

"Good." he said, "Now, just the water crystal."

Focusing on the sensation of warmth, she started to feel a familiar pull, and envisioned a hand in her mind that reached out towards it. The blue crystal in front of her began to gently rattle in place. She then frowned when the other two began to do the same.

"Concentrate.", the voice repeated, as a few gentle footsteps approached her from behind.

"I _am_ concentrating." she said through bared teeth.

The harder she focused, the more the rattling intensified. Cyan curled her lower lip inward and stared furiously at the crystals, steadily growing more agitated the more they refused to cooperate. With a sharp exhale, she released the tension inside of her, and in a bright flash of light erupted from the top of the stools as the energy from all three crystals simultaneously burst towards her across the room. The color shifted in tone to a bright blue hue as it washed over her aura, and in an instant it was gone.

Jared paced a few steps forward and stared at the smoking remains of the Dust crystals, and then looked down at the floor where Cyan was sitting. She stared back up at him, and after a few moments of silence he turned to walk towards a silver-lined storage case that had been placed near the wall.

"Let's try it again."

Cyan scoffed in disgust as she uncrossed her legs and rose easily to her feet, "Why bother? What's the point of this?"

The instructor had retrieved three new crystals from the case and was on his way back to the center of the room when he took note of her, and stopped in place as he waited for her to continue.

"I can already handle more than ten times the energy I could six months ago." she said, with more than just a hint of pride, "And I don't even feel _that_ anymore."

"It's not your power that's in question here." Jared said, pointing a finger at her, "You need control to go along with it. Suppose you try to absorb an enemy's attack and take everything from your weapon along with it? Or from your closest teammate?"

"Since when do the Grimm attack with Dust-based energy?" she said, tightening her brow in a defiant knot.

Jared ignored her, "Or suppose you happen upon a natural Dust deposit when you're out in the field? You have no idea what will happen to you if you go too far over your limit."

Given where she woke up after she had been pulled out of her burning home, she did, in fact, have a reasonable basis for assumption on what might happen. Despite her irritation, his point was well and made. She could feel the defiance start to drain out of her, and resumed her position on the floor as Jared replaced the Dust crystals in preparation for her next attempt.

"Your Semblance is unique, Cyan." he continued, "Dangerous without precise control; to you and possibly those around you. It's not the kind of ability you can just wield like a club."

She recognized the tone in his voice, and knew better now than to try and argue with it. With another sigh, she settled herself back down and started measuring her breathing. Again.

"Just relax. You'll get past this," he reassured her, "and move on to planning your presentation before you know it."

Cyan began to slow her breathing with to a steady rhythm and asked, "What's that supposed to entail, exactly? For something so important, they've hardly told us anything in class."

Jared finished his arrangement and stepped to the side, "That's up to you. The only real requirement is that you display your aptitude. Most students work out a floor exercise. Some of them choose to demonstrate mock combat against a practice target."

She pondered his words as her mind gradually started to clear. Jared moved to the back of the room and dimmed the lights once again, "I have no doubt you'll come up with quite the show to put on, given that thing you'll be demonstrating with."

"That _thing_?" Cyan said, fixing him with a glare, "Do you have any idea how much time I've spent—?"

"Focus." He cut her off, gesturing towards the crystals.

Cyan glanced at him, and from the corner of her eye noted the hot, vivid colors the Dust crystals wildly pulsed with. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and blew it out slowly. And focus, she did.

In fact, she became so focused that she bumped headlong into something as she turned the corner immediately after exiting the locker room.

"Ow!" she rubbed her forehead, and got a good enough look to make out a vaguely person-shaped object, "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where—"

Her words stuck in her mouth as the figure in front of her turned around. She almost didn't recognize him without his school attire, instead wearing a cleanly pressed dark-grey uniform, with an open car coat similar in style to Atlesian military dress, with a black button-down shirt underneath and a pair of fingerless black gloves. He was also wearing a small pocketed bandolier that secured the coat to his shoulders, and had apparently paused here to fasten a weapon belt around his waist, from which hung a rapier-style sword with an intricately carved half-basket hilt.

"Jet…"

The boy blinked at her several times in sudden recognition, "…Cyan."

Silence reigned in the empty hall as the two of them stared at each other, and it didn't take long for her to grow uncomfortable enough to speak.

"It's… been a while." she said, upon realizing she had nothing else to say, "It feels like I haven't seen you all year."

Jet quietly cleared his throat, and inclined his head in a manner that Cyan could almost mistake for politeness, "Well if I recall, those were your explicit instructions, were they not?"

Now it was Cyan's turn to blink in surprise, "I guess so, but… I mean, I didn't expect you to, you know, actually listen. I figured you'd just lay off for another week or so, and then go right back to being a jerk."

He calmly finished attaching the belt around his waist and replied, "Yes, well, I believe you made it quite clear that, at our current rate of exchange, that would have cost me the limbs of at least one teammate."

That almost made her laugh. In spite of everything she had seen, heard, and learned, this was now the most surreal moment of her entire life.

"If you'll pardon me, then," he said, "I have some preparations—"

"Right. Sure." she nodded quickly, eager for the exchange to be over with, "You're, um, pardoned."

Jet stared in silence for another moment, and then turned to walk down the hall. Cyan winced her eyes closed and rubbed at them, as if doing so would somehow might physically remove the situation from her memory.

"You… look different."

Cyan stopped and looked back up to find Jet glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Well, I did get taller, so…" she allowed her voice to trail off into more uncomfortable nodding.

"Indeed." he said with quiet consideration, and then nodded himself, "Well then. Best of luck."

She stared after he him until he disappeared at the end of the hall.

_He's messing with you again,_ the little voice in her head told her, _has to be._

"Right…" she answered the voice, and began making her way to the main auditorium.

"Has to be."


	12. Chapter 10

The muffled cheers of the crowd erupted into an enormous cacophony when Cyan pushed open the doors to the auditorium, and for a moment it felt as though she had walked into a solid wall of sound. She let her eyes adjust to the dimness, and quickly scanned the room. Two sets of tiered bleachers currently packed by the guests in attendance sat on opposite walls. The center of the room was dominated by an elevated hexagonal-shaped platform, accessible through several sets of iron stairs at the corners. It was a multipart prefabricated unit, designed to be a portable stage that could be quickly set up and taken down. A number of spotlights had been rigged to the ceiling overhead, and they were currently focused on the stage's sole occupant.

As she stepped away from the entrance, her eyes focused on the fully armed and armored Atlesian soldier waving a trio of attendees towards an unoccupied section of the bleachers. Looking around, she counted over a score of them scattered throughout the room. Quite a bit more security than she was expecting for a simple demonstration. She slowed down as she approached him and made an effort to erase the look of worry on her face that she saw reflected in his masked helmet. With a cursory glance and an affirming nod, he stepped back and directed her around the front of the bleachers to a staging area on the far side of the room. She hesitated briefly before nodding back at him and continuing onward.

Her eyes we drawn to the activity on stage as she made her way past it. A dozen devices, each one comprised of two flat discs roughly the size of a grapefruit with a pair of stabilizer fins jutting out of the back, swarmed through the air, occasionally pausing long enough to point its small array of weaponry at the student, and a small beam of white energy would lance out. It was these opportunities that allowed Cyan to recognize the Atlesian combat drones, modified— she hoped— to deliver stinging pin pricks rather than lethal force.

The student on stage flicked her gaze towards the incoming attack and brought her weapon up to bear against it. Near as Cyan could tell, it consisted of little more than nine bright silvery lengths of metal, connected by cord designed to stretch under tension. The tip was sharpened to a fine point that glistened brightly under the spotlight. Overall it gave the impression of a multi-segmented whip. The wielder twirled artfully and swatted the energy beam out of the air. The drones their pattern of fire in rapid succession, and she deflected one attack after another. Never once did she lose her rhythm: her movements were fluid and graceful, almost hypnotic, as they flowed seamlessly from defense to offense. With a sudden, yet subtle, shift in momentum, the spiked tip of her weapon pierced the center of the camera lens on the nearest drone, sending it to the ground in a flash of sparks. Her attacks found their mark again and again, and the encircling swarm began to rapidly thin until only two of them remained. These drones swung outwards into a wider arc that took them well out of the whip's reach. The student manipulated a control on the weapon's handle in a blur of motion, and the metal segments began to light up one by one with a greenish glow. With a ferocious cry she whirled again, faster than ever, sending a pair of thin, crescent-shaped bursts of energy at the drones, cleaving them neatly in two. Cyan could feel the force of wind gusting from where she was standing outside edge of the ring.

Unsurprisingly, the crowd loudly applauded the performance. Even what little of it Cyan had seen had been an incredible sight. With a quick flourish, the student curled up her weapon and secured it to her waist. It wasn't until she turned to address the bleachers on this side of the room that Cyan finally recognized Autumn. She was wearing a dark, tight-fitting bodysuit with deep orange coloring that denoted additional protective padding, and, Cyan couldn't help but note, showed off the curves of her figure a little too well. Her orange hair, which seemed a shade darker than she remembered, had been pulled back into a long braided ponytail. Autumn waved graciously to the crowd as she made her way towards the edge of the stage, where Jet was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She quite literally leapt into his arms, and he stopped his applause just in time to wrap her in an embrace as she planted a deep kiss on his lips.

Cyan rolled her eyes and made a face, desperately looking around for something else to focus her attention on. She settled upon Lyohniy, who was just ahead of her and very excitedly waving his hand in her direction. As she drew closer to him, she spotted Roan and her brother, as well as the enormous shape of Instructor Jared. He stood facing the stage, his back to the four of them as she approached, discussing something with one of the Atlesian guardsman standing nearby.

"Phew!" he said to her with a broad grin, "Some performance, huh?"

Cyan gave him a level gaze, "Was it? I didn't really notice."

Vermilion grinned and cocked an eyebrow down at her. He looked very impressive dressed in the full suit of deep crimson armor, but the fact that he now seemed even taller than usual brought her no end of annoyance.

"Oh really?" he asked, his voice betraying the amusement hidden by his blank expression.

"Really." Cyan made a sipping gesture with one hand, "You know, like when you're drinking something, and a little bit spills on your shirt, and you don't notice? Just like that."

Vermilion chuckled and shook his head. Lyohniy smirked, placed both hands on his waist, leaned in closer and said, "Aw, who's jealous?" as if talking to a small child.

She smirked right back and gave him a quick elbow in the stomach, causing him to choke on his laughter as the breath was blown out of him. It was about this time that Jared noticed her from the corner of his eye, and excused himself from his present discussion with an assertive nod. He joined the four of them as several more guards went to work clearing the arena from Autumn's performance, preparing it for the next presentation.

"Cyan." he said simply, but his eyes searched every detail of her, presumably noting her change in attire.

"Well, how do I look?" she grinned, not really expecting an answer.

After several more seconds of silence, he offered her a nod, "Ready."

She smiled again, and chewed on her lower lip. Her eyes searched for something that would help settle her nerves, then she looked up at the instructor and frowned.

"You didn't forget her, did you?"

"'Her?'" Jared said with one eyebrow raised, "It's a 'her' now? Since when?"

Cyan looked offended, "She was always a 'her'!"

Jared quirked his mustached mouth into an amused grin, "No, of course I didn't forget…"

The instructor walked over to a nearby bench that had been moved to the side to make room for the bleachers, and lifted an enormous object wrapped in a dark blue cloth bag and fastened shut with a length of fine rope. He handed it to Cyan, who smiled and cradled it gently in her arms.

"Thanks for letting me keep her here overnight." she said, still smiling.

He continued to shake his head, and watched her with fascination, "I understand that you're proud, but it _is _just a weapon."

"It's not just any weapon." she insisted, "It's mine."

"If you can help it, sir, try not to discourage her." Vermilion's voice carried over the din of the crowd, "It's the first clear sign of affection she's shown for anything besides the three of us. It's growth."

Cyan glanced back at him and stuck her tongue out, "Of course I like her more than you. Just look how quiet and supportive she is. It's one of her most endearing qualities."

Vermilion grinned and put his hands up in surrender, then went back to his conversation with Lyohniy. Cyan turned her attention back to the auditorium.

"This is quite a turnout." she said, hoping the conversation would help calm her down, "And a lot of security for a simple ceremony."

"There are some pretty important visitors." Jared explained, "Not to mention the large amount of military hardware being made available to the students for their demonstrations."

He then gave her a hard look, "Which you would have learned all about if you had bothered to show up on time."

She winced and looked over her shoulder to find Vermilion and Lyohniy both struggling to contain their laughter. She gave them both a dirty look and asked, "So how do they decide who goes next?"

"Random draw." Jared said, "After everything's said and done, it was decided that was the most fair way."

She nodded and looked over at Roan. As usual, he was carefully studying the room, both the stage and the bleachers around it, making a thorough note of the locations of everything and everyone present. After having spent so much time training with him she now understood why. It was the nature of his Semblance. Since he needed to be able to see where he was going, having a clear mental picture of his surroundings aided him greatly. The more he was aware of what was around him, the less time he would need to pause in the heat of battle to pick a destination. He could simply react, guided by instinct rather than conscious thought, She reflected on how obvious it seemed once he explained it, and how silly she felt for not working it out on her own.

The voice of the announcer suddenly boomed over the arena, "The next student demonstration, Zee Lyohniy…"

The sound of his name pulled her back out of her thoughts and she turned around to see an enormous grin spread across his features. He walked forward, traded fist-bumps with Vermilion, and exchanged a nod with Roan as he clapped a hand on his shoulder. He smiled even wider and winked at Cyan as he strode up to the ring, where he was greeted by measured applause from the crowd. She returned his smile, wishing that she felt even half as confident as he currently looked. As he passed by the Atlesian soldier at the bottom of the stairs, he handed him what appeared to be an index card, and walked to the center of the stage. The soldier read over the card, and touch a hand to his helmet to activate his radio.

She looked back up at Instructor Jared, who seemed to sense her incoming question, "Once you are called to go up," he paused and pointed at the soldier standing at the steps up to the arena, "hand the guard there your list of written instructions. The military will take care of anything you need for your demonstration."

"Anything?" she asked.

"Obviously not _anything_." he held up a hand and began counting on his fingers, "Mark III Hover Drones and Atlesian Basker Hounds. Or stationary targets, if you prefer."

He turned his head and gave her a critical stare, "You aren't planning on going up there and just winging it, are you?"

She stared back at him in preparation to deliver an appropriately snappy retort when the voice of the announcer drowned her out, "Lyohniy will be wielding his custom Meteor Shell, 'Ilya' and 'Muromets'."

Her attention was drawn back to the stage, where Lyohniy rolled his shoulders around in an effort to loosen them, and shifted the harness he had strapped over his duster so that it rode a little higher than it had been. It consisted of two simple brown leather bands over his shoulders buckled at the waist, with two holsters at his back. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Then looked over at the guard nearest to the stage and nodded. The lights in the room dimmed, causing a hush to fall over the crowd. Lyohniy tensed, the fingers on his right hand twitching in anticipation.

A loud warning buzzer sounded, along with the snap-hiss of a hydraulic system coming from somewhere under the stage, and small cylindrical column suddenly sprung upwards from the floor, with a red and white bullseye target half a meter in width affixed to it. In less than a fraction of a second, Lyohniy snatched the pistol from his right holster and spun into a crouch as he took aim. It was a powerful, high caliber weapon that looked large in his hand, even from the distance Cyan was standing. With a smooth pull of the trigger, a single shot splashed against the target precisely in the center of the bullseye, which promptly lit up on impact. Lyohniy adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger two more times, landing a shot on both of the surrounding rings. Once they were both alight, a higher pitched confirmation alarm buzzed out and the target sank back into the floor. In the same instant, a second target appeared on the opposite side as the first, but farther away. Lyohniy drew a second pistol and drilled it with three more hits, sending it back underneath the stage.

The targets began appearing faster and faster in sequence, and at random distances. Lyohniy deftly spun about the central portion of the stage, hammering each one with incredible precision. Two of them sprang up on opposite sides simultaneously. In response, he spread his arms to the side and alternated six shots; starting from the outermost ring on each target and moving towards the center. A second buzzer sounded, and several more spotlights flooded the arena. Lyohniy artfully twirled both pistols around by the trigger guard, thumbing a control button as he did, and they began to alter their shape. Protective plating expanded over one side, curving into a half circle. He crossed his hands in front of him, and allowed the weapons to interlock and form a rough sphere. He took this new form in one hand and spun in a circle, dragging a thick thick cable from one end out to just over a meter before grabbing it with his other hand. The cable continued to stretch two additional meters in length as Lyohniy whirled it in a furious circle overhead.

Another target appeared directly in front of him, and Lyohniy shifted his stance to allow the momentum he'd built to propel the sphere forward. It struck the target and completely obliterated it. He spun again and pulled up sharply on the cable and settled the weapon into a comfortable circular pattern, with appropriate flourishes and directional shifts, continuing his assault on the targets as they appeared around him. After another five successful strikes, one final buzzer sounded and he swung the weapon overhead, smashing it into the floor and bringing it to a dead stop. The sound of the metal stage crunching under the weight of impact echoed loudly throughout the auditorium.

The crowd broke into applause as Lyohniy touched another control on the handle that caused the cable to retract, and just as swiftly returned the pistols to their original configuration, then secured them to their holsters. He grinned a triumphant grin, and pumped his fists towards the crowd, riling them up into even louder cheers. Cyan smiled as she and the others joined in as well. Lyohniy traded high fives with Vermilion as he descended from the stage.

"So did you notice _that_?" he said, drawing in heavy breaths, but still grinning from ear to ear.

"I saw." she smiled back at him, "You did great."

The three of them all stopped to stare at her, Vermilion and Lyohniy with open-mouthed shock.

"Whaaaat?" Lyohniy allowed the word to drawl out slowly, "A compliment? And a genuine one at that? V, who is this, and where did your sister go?"

She scowled at him, "See, that right there is exactly why I never tell you anything."

Both of them continued to laugh at her expense while the guards swarmed the stage behind them to replace the damaged panel. Jared took a step closer and said, "If you like, I can run you through a list of all the errors in your form."

It took a moment of uncomfortable silence for Lyohniy to realize that the instructor wasn't serious. He laughed again, and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead before collapsing on the bench nearby. Cyan looked around the auditorium once again as a sudden thought occurred to her.

"Sir? The amount of space between the bleachers and the stage seems a little… well, hazardous."

Jared nodded to her and pointed towards a strip of lighting around the edge of the stage currently being examined by one of the maintenance personnel.

"There's a safety barrier in place during the demonstration. It's small, but strong enough to catch most of the energy from a misplaced attack."

She noticed what seemed to be more than a little emphasis on the word.

"_Most_ of the energy?"

"Most." he repeated, staring directly at her, "It's not an excuse to cut loose. Students are expected to demonstrate control as much as they are raw force."

Cyan couldn't help but think that most of that explanation was added specifically for her benefit, and was unsure of how to feel about the insinuation.

"And what happens if one does not exercise the proper restraint?" she asked.

The instructor folded his arms across his chest when he responded, "That's the other reason for all of the extra security."

She took the hint, and didn't press the issue any further. Several more demonstrations proceeded without incident, and Cyan could feel the nervous tension start to build inside of her again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our next demonstration, Vermilion Athelward, wielding the Bowlance, 'Crann Taca'." the announcer's voice drifted over the chatter in the room.

Cyan turned to face her brother, who at some point in the last few minutes must have retrieved his weapon, which was now loosely slung across his back by a strap at his shoulder. The lance stood taller than he did, measuring nearly two and a half meters from tip to tip, with an array of curved points at the head, like a cross brace that had been bent upwards. The edges were also sharpened to allow for horizontal and vertical slashes as well as thrusts. The deep red, almost rust-color, gave it an even more menacing feel. Vermilion smiled to the rest of them, nodded once, and made his way towards the stairs without a word, declining to pass any instructions to the guard on the way. He took his weapon in hand at the top and walked to the center of the stage to the applause of the crowd, and waited for silence before proceeding.

He started off small: assuming a wide, relaxed defensive posture, the tip of his lance pointed downward. After a few measured breaths, he took a short sliding step forward and thrust. It was a flawless maneuver, gathering the momentum from his leg, transferring it with a sharp twist of his hip, and finally delivering the force of the attack out through his shoulder. It also set the stage for everything that was to follow. Vermilion worked through a relatively standard floor exercise, but every single nuance of movement was thoroughly calculated to achieve maximum effect. Even the non-standard techniques flowed seamlessly together as though they belonged; a sharp sweep drawn backwards to hook a target's leg out from under it, a forward twirl that criss-crossed the many sharpened edges rapidly through air in front of him, and a half-spin into a backwards thrust.

One full minute after his demonstration started, he abruptly shifted his grip forward closer to top of the weapon. With a sharp twist, the haft split in two and spread outwards, the two ends folding in on themselves until they formed the arms of a recurve length bow. A bright line of energy sprang in between the two ends where the bow would normally be strung, and he grasped it with his right hand. As he drew back, an "arrow" of pure energy materialized between his fingers and the portion of the lance head that now formed the riser. Vermilion darted forward and fell to both knees as he took aim at the ceiling, then released. The shot traveled upwards until it struck the the invisible dome of the safety barrier. She soon realized that he had deliberately held himself back, creating an attack strong enough to reach it's mark, but still weak enough to be dissipated on impact. The top of the barrier where the arrow hit briefly glowed white hot, worrying Cyan for a moment that the attack was still too strong. But the barrier held, turning the energy into a dazzling shower of sparks that gently fell to the ground.

The lights returned to normal as he rose to his feet and returned the bow to it's original configuration before securing to the back of his armor. The crowd again applauded, and Vermilion responded by offering a formal salute to both sets of bleachers. He then stepped out of the arena, humbling accepting the praise from several other students and teachers he passed along the way. Like Lyohniy, he had put on an incredibly demanding physical performance. Unlike Lyohniy, he wasn't even breathing hard when he had finished.

"Impressive." Instructor Jared said as Vermilion approached.

"Mm." Roan nodded along with him.

Cyan couldn't help but agree. After all, anything effective enough to elicit a response from Roan was something worthy of admiration.

"Thanks." Vermilion smiled at them and took a seat next to Lyohniy. He accepted the water bottle offered to him, settling himself down in a calm, upright posture. Cyan couldn't help but wonder where he got his energy from.

"Our next demonstration," the announcer boomed over the loudspeaker once again, "Roan Shikari, wielding the Dual Shot Daggers, 'Solemn Zastra'."

That certainly was fast, Cyan thought to herself. Of course, it's not like Vermilion's performance left a lot of repairs to be done. She turned to face Roan, who tugged at one of the straps that fastened his weapon to his forearms. A pair of straight-edge blades that stopped just shy of his wrist gleamed brightly as they passed through the spotlights, as did the small knives strapped to the harnesses he wore around each of his thighs. In their current position though, with the tips pointed in the direction of his elbow, they seemed more suited for blocking and defense than attack. Roan approached the stage in silence, barely slowing down to hand an index card to the guard as he stepped into the ring.

"Some random draw." Cyan said, "First Lyoh, then Vermilion only a few presentations later, and now Roan right away?"

The instructor gave a half-shrug, "There aren't that many students left to present. That you all are going up so close together isn't surprising, given your late arrival."

Her face faulted once again, "With respect, sir: please learn a new tune, already."

Jared fumed at her, but before he could respond the crowd grew quiet as the lights dimmed once again. Roan stood unmoving, facing the center of the arena, as a small circle parted in half about five meters away. A four-legged machine, about the size of a small horse was lifted into the arena by a raised platform, accompanied by a warning buzzer and a hum of electricity that whirled it to life. Sharp claws on the ends of each foot clacked against the arena floor when it moved forward, and it's jaws opened to show a perfectly-arranged row jagged spikes for teeth. Armed with a suite of visual and audio sensors, Basker Hounds most often functioned as supplemental security forces, though occasionally they were used for training, standing in for the Beowolves they were modeled after. The machine loosed a mechanical growl and loped across the stage towards its target.

Roan stood unfazed, and waited until the creature was nearly within striking range before he moved. His right hand flicked to the harness at his leg and withdrew a single knife, hurling it forward in a blur of motion. The knife lodged itself at the joints near the Basker Hound's front foot with a grating sound. It continued forward, and a second knife found its way into the other forefoot moments later. Flailing jaws snapped shut around air as Roan vanished and reappeared some distance behind it, hurling a third and fourth knife into its two hind legs as he spun around. The Hound tried to rear back so that it could turn to face him.

That's when the knives exploded.

First the one in it's right forepaw, throwing the machine wildly off-balance, and then the next. One after another the knives exploded in sequence, lifting the Hound higher and higher into the air. With his arms still held outward, Roan clenched his hands into tight fists. The blades on both gauntlets swiveled forward from the sides, each forming a single large punching dagger when they snapped into place. He leaped from the ground and vanished again, this time appearing directly in front of the flailing machine while it was still in midair, and crossed his arms in front of him. The strike brought the razor-sharp edges of both blades into the cables at the Basker Hound's neck, severing the head in a single swift motion.

Roan turned his jump into a forward tumble and landed back on the stage in a crouch as the remains of the machine smashed to the ground in a heap. The crowd sat in hushed silence, and it wasn't until Roan stood up straight that they began to applaud. Cyan shook her head in astonishment, and glanced at her watch to confirm that the whole process had taken only a matter of seconds. Roan left the arena without acknowledging the crowd at all and moved to stand beside Vermilion and Lyohniy, both whom blinked at him incredulously.

"Wow. That was…" Lyohniy paused, searching for the right word.

"…Efficient?" Vermilion supplied, glancing between Lyohniy and Cyan for approval.

"Thank you." Roan turned the corner of his mouth into a grin, and went back to watching the guards clear the stage.

Cyan let her mind drift again as she tried to relax. When that didn't work she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, allowing the sounds of the auditorium to wash over her in waves. The announcer's voice once again brought her out of her trance.

"And now for our final presentation. Ladies and gentlemen, Cyan Mireille…"

Cyan tightened her grip around the cloth bag and held it closer. She could feel the eyes of her friends and the instructor fall upon her as the crowd began their measured applause. A sense of urgency played across their features as they waited for her to approach the stage, but in spite of her mental commands, her feet refused to cooperate.

Jared stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, "You're going to do fine. Focus. Remember your training. And don't forget to breathe."

She locked her gaze onto his and nodded several times.

"…Breathe." he repeated, this time as an order instead of advice.

Cyan blinked at him and forced the air out of her lungs, along with a nervous chuckle. She glanced around at the other three and smiled. Roan offered his customary polite nod and Vermilion joined in the applause. Lyohniy placed both of his hands at her shoulders, gently spun her to face the stage and then prodded her towards it. It was only then that she finally started moving forward.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, the guard looked down at her expectantly. She froze in place as the nagging feeling that she had been forgetting something suddenly resolved itself. She bit her lower lip in thought, and then subtly, if frantically, gestured the guard closer. He turned his head, and then cautiously leaned down so that he could hear her over the crowd.

"One Basker Hound." she said, "In assault mode. One minute and fourteen seconds after I begin."

The guard leaned back up and stared at her for a moment from behind his expressionless mask, shrugged, then touched a hand to his helmet and relayed the instructions into his radio. Cyan clenched even tighter around the bag in an effort to stop her hands from shaking as she ascended the stairs.

When she took her place in the arena the announcer finally continued, "…Cyan Mireille, wielding the…"

His voiced trailed off, and Cyan heard the quiet thump of a hand clamping over the microphone.

"Is this right?" a muffled voice asked, "…yes? Sorry everyone, wielding the…" the announcer paused again, still apparently unsure of his own words, "Full Bore Zweihander, 'Ardent Sky'."

A hush began to settle over the audience as the members began to express their confusion. Cyan couldn't explain why, but in that instant, something caused the anxiety to drain out of her. Her trembling stopped, her stomach settled, and the thoughts whirling about in her mind abated, leaving a calm stillness in their wake. She smiled, walked to the middle of the stage, and waited for silence before proceeding.

The spotlights surrounding the stage whirled around to center on her and Cyan felt a little dizzy from the sudden intense heat. She steadied herself and took a few more steps forward to place herself in the exact center of the stage as she reached her right hand inside of the cloth bag and firmly grasped her weapon. With her left, she tugged the rope free and pulled on the cloth as she swept her hand across, as though she were drawing from a scabbard. The bag fell to the ground, and the sharpened edges of Cyan's massive great sword gleamed a mixture of icy blue and silver hues under the bright spotlight. Though the sword was double-edged, the blade was split down the middle, and an enormous gun barrel ran the length of the sword where the fuller would be. From pommel to point, the sword was almost as tall as she was, and measured nearly thirty centimeters at the crossguard, where a modified Dust turbine hummed with energy as she gingerly touched the trigger hidden in the grip.

Despite the weapon's massive size, Cyan almost effortlessly hefted it over her shoulder with one hand and braced it across her back in an imaginary sheath. She took another deep breath, closed her eyes, and blew it out fast.

With a quick forward stride, Cyan "drew" the blade out from behind her, gripped it in both hands and swung it downward in a furious arc. At the end of the swing, shifted her grip, took another step and swung again from the opposite side, and then again, and again, each strike faster than the one before it. With every step she could feel the weight of the sword dragging her slightly off-balance, and made a mental note to widen her stance with the next series. She planted her foot, and brought her forward movement to an abrupt halt and thrust the point of the blade behind her, and then spun to face that direction.

Her movements grew more forceful as she made her way towards the other set of bleachers. This time she swung the blade in flat horizontal arcs covering almost a full two-thirds of the area in front of her. As the weight of the weapon threatened to pull her from her feet, she followed through with the swing by deftly spinning on the balls of her feet in a complete circle, and then assuming a reverse grip. After another half-step to the side, she twirled the sword, one-handed, in front of her several times before sweeping it backwards and then into an upwards pommel strike. She then transferred the weapon to her other hand and lifted it behind her back once again, before bringing down into the floor in a thunderous crash. All the while, she silently counted the seconds off to herself.

Upon entering her final series, she flicked the control lever that whirled the turbine to life. With each swing of the sword, it churned hungrily as the energy began to build and emit a soft blue glow. A buzzer rang out and Cyan heard the hiss of the raised platform behind her, and then smiled. Perfect.

She let her momentum of a large and low sweep carry her around in a circle to face the Basker Hound with the sword held high behind her head just as it entered the ring with a mechanical bark and charged. She ground her teeth with a loud grunt of effort, swung the sword downward one final time and squeezed the trigger. A huge crescent-shaped beam of energy lanced outward from the barrel, as though it was being painted into the air by the tip of the blade. At the end of her stroke, the attack was propelled forward, violently tearing through the arena floor and into the Hound, which barely managed to leave the starting platform before it was sheared clean in two in a hail of sparks.

But the energy didn't stop there.

Cyan eyes widened as the crescent beam carved a path in the stage floor directly at the bleachers on that side of the auditorium. She had gravely miscalculated the Hound's durability. There was no way the safety barrier would stop what was left of that blast. Judging from the reactions of the onlookers nearby, she was far from the only person to notice this. The Atlesian guards began to take up positions near the bottom of the stage, weapons drawn. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Instructor Jared, his axe seemingly materialized in his hands from thin air, move with unbelievable speed to back them up. Short exclamations of surprise and terror came from the bleachers, as members of the audience began to try and move out of the way in the precursor to the stampede of a full panic.

Cyan let one hand fall from her weapon and extended it towards the audience. The few of them that had already started to move stopped when they saw the energy wave begin to shimmer and lose cohesion. It quickly grew smaller as the power was drawn across the stage towards Cyan where it mixed with her aura in a glow that nearly outshone the spotlights upon her. What remained of the attack collided with the barrier, which groaned under the pressure of struggling to bleed off all of the remaining energy at once. The barrier strained, but ultimately held as the glow from the attack faded.

Silence reigned over the room as Cyan stood unmoving in the arena, drawing heavy breaths from both the strain of her routine and her sudden unexpected flexing of her Semblance. She clenched her fingers a few times as she let her hand fall, glancing worriedly around the room. All eyes remained upon her, but no one moved.

Finally, after several more seconds of silence, the sound of a single person clapping echoed in her ears. She turned back to the remains of the Basker Hound to see a man in bright white Atlesian formal military attire calmly applauding. Gradually the other members near him began to applaud as well, and it wasn't long before the entire room had joined in. A few in the audience, likely assuming everything had gone according to plan, got to their feet with cheering and loud whistles. She looked back down at Instructor Jared just in time to see him swipe his hand from his forehead completely down over his face, before shaking his head and joining in the applause as well. Cyan grinned, finding it strangely difficult to cope with the adulation. She hoisted Ardent Sky behind her with one hand, sheathing the weapon in a leather strap slung over her shoulder, and waved to the crowd with her other hand as she began to descend the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, Lyohniy, Vermilion, and even Roan greeted her with applause. She quite literally leaped into their collective arms in a hug. Vermilion, having seen it coming, laughed and easily moved in time to catch her. Lyohniy seemed surprised, but quickly hugged her back. Roan was more confused than anything else, and responded by gently patting his hand around her shoulder. She stepped away from them still grinning from ear to ear.

"That was _amazing!_" Lyohniy said, trading a high five with her.

"I know." she winked back at him.

Vermilion shook his head and smiled, "You did it."

She rubbed the sweat from her forehead, and was surprised to find her hands were still trembling, "I did, didn't I?"

The applause finally began to fade as the announcer made his closing remarks and brought the ceremony to a formal end. General rumblings arose of the audience rose as they began to get up from their seats. Some of them headed for the exit, while other began to congregate in small groups to discuss the events. Parents in attendance greeted their children with congratulations, and work crews began the long process of cleanup.

Cyan felt a presence approach her from behind and turned to see Instructor Jared standing there with his arms folded in front of him, tapping one finger on the inside of his bicep. Her smile finally faded as she approached him.

"No, we aren't just going up and winging it," he said with a raised eyebrow, "right?"

Her face flushed as she sputtered out a response, "I had everything under control."

That came out as a shout, even though she didn't intend it to, and Cyan braced herself for the oncoming lecture. But instead he only smirked.

"After a fashion, I suppose so."

She opened her eyes and blinked at him.

"And I'm proud of you."

It took a moment for the words to finally sink in. She felt a warmth of pride begin to well up inside of her, and gradually beam out across her features. He smiled back and placed a hand firmly on her shoulder.

"Well then," he said after a brief silence, "If you can tear yourself away from your celebrations for a moment, there's someone who was asking to meet you."

Cyan looked up at him curiously, and bid a brief farewell to the other three before following the instructor through the crowds. He led her towards a group of three people in the midst of a discussion. The shorter man had silvery-gray hair and a thick bushy mustache, and was dressed in a white double-breasted jacket and matching formal pants with a blue collared shirt and a white tie. The other man stood much taller, almost two full meters in height, clean-shaven, with neatly parted black hair that was greying slightly around the temples. He wore a white overcoat with a gray vest over a black sweater and a red tie, alongside matching pants and black boots that reached his knee. She also noted a white glove over his right hand. Between the two of them was a young woman, possibly in her twenties, with pale skin and white hair tied up in a bun on the back of her head, and light blue eyes. She stood rigidly formal, with her hands held behind her back, in a long white military coat with black full length gloves, a blue button up vest, and tall high-heeled boots that reached her mid-thigh.

"That is a shame." the taller man said, "I had hoped to hear back from your other daughter before the end of the month, Mr. Schnee."

"As did I," the businessman wrinkled his mouth into a small frown, "But I'm afraid she has her heart set on attending Beacon, and when she puts her mind to something, she can be a little, well…"

"Stubborn." the woman finished, though without the coldness such a terse response would imply.

The other man chuckled and made a pacifying gesture, "Dedicated. It's an admirable quality you both possess in abundance." he said, nodding in the woman's direction.

Jared stopped a little away from the group and adopted the same formal stance that the woman currently held, the tall man took note of him and his expression seemed to brighten, "Excuse me for just a moment, President Schnee. Winter."

"Sir." the woman saluted, and then turned to her father to continue their conversation.

The other man strode towards them, grinning as he approached. Cyan now recognized him as the first person to applaud her presentation. But there was something else familiar about him…

"Sir Jared," he said, "there's no need to be so formal."

"Old habits, sir." the instructor replied offering a salute. The other man responded with a smile and they exchanged a friendly handshake.

Cyan blinked and stared as she replayed the the exchange in her mind. _Sir_ Jared?

The instructor stepped to the side so that Cyan was facing the other man directly and then gestured at her, "Allow me to introduce Cyan Mireille, one of my top graduating students this year."

Looking back to her he then said, "Cyan, I'd like you to meet General James Ironwood."

She froze in place and stared up at him. Not knowing how else to respond she quickly offered a salute. The general laughed and offered his right hand down to her, which she shook. It was strong and powerful, even through her armored gauntlet, and overflowing with confidence.

"A pleasure." he said with a friendly smile, before raising an amused eyebrow at her, "Judging from that awful salute, I'm guessing you already know who I am?"

She felt herself blush with embarrassment, "Headmaster of Atlas Academy, commander-in-chief of the entire Atlas military. I don't think there's a student here who doesn't know."

His laugh made him seem incredibly approachable for someone with his standing, "I suppose that's true. In any case, I'm glad to have the chance to personally congratulate you on your successful presentation."

"Thank you, sir." she quickly replied before glancing away, "That is, I mean… I did my best, considering."

"Not at all." he made a dismissive wave, "You adapted to a situation with quick thinking and sound judgement. You overcame a mistake and prevented an incident as a result."

Cyan was taken aback by his praise even more than she was by his sincerity.

"Tell me," he continued, "have you given any thought as to which academy you'll be applying?"

She turned her head at him, her brow knotted in confusion, "Are you… recruiting me?"

The general chuckled again, "Well I'd be foolish not to, wouldn't I? Someone with your transcript and level of ability could have their pick of…"

Before he could finish his thought, the woman named Winter approached the three of them from behind holding a scroll in her hand, "Pardon me, General? For you."

General Ironwood acknowledged her with an expression that was equal parts affirming and understanding. It was clear that she wouldn't have even bothered him if it wasn't something that demanded his immediate attention.

"Ah, duty calls." he said in the easy courtesy of a practiced diplomat, "Cyan, I look forward to seeing you again. Sir Jared." he nodded once to each of them and then took the scroll as he walked away, "Yes, this is Ironwood. Go ahead."

Winter looked Cyan up and down once with a blank expression before turning to follow on the general's heels. She and the instructor both stood there silently as the crowds filed around them.

"Okay." she said at last as she looked up at him, "What was that?"

"He was rather impressed, I thought."

"Not that." she said, "_Sir_ Jared? You were _knighted_?"

As he grinned, a mischievous twinkle appeared in his eye, "I told you I wasn't always just an instructor."

Before she could press the issue further, Vermilion, Lyohniy, and Roan rejoined them, along with a small mob of other faculty that had been waiting to speak with the Instructor. As her three friends filed in around her, Jared departed.

"What was that all about?" Vermilion asked in disbelief.

Cyan shrugged, "Apparently my reputation precedes me."

"Uh oh. I sure hope not." Lyohniy snickered as he feigned a worried glance at Vermilion.

She narrowed her eyes at him once again, and smirked, "Now who's the jealous one?"

They laughed again, all except for Roan, who had his eyes trained on General Ironwood as he took his call. Something must have gotten his attention, because his wolf-like ears were turned sharply in that direction. After a minute of listening, his expression changed. It was a subtle thing that didn't show very much outwardly, but she knew the look he had in his eye meant that something was up.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Closer." he said, without looking back at her, "We need to hear this."

The four of them quickly exchanged glances. The general had moved to a less crowded part of the room, and getting closer without being obvious was risky. But then again, it was also quieter in that part of the room, so they wouldn't have to get that close, and neither Ironwood nor Winter were exactly on the lookout for eavesdroppers. She nodded to them, and they made their way to the edge of the crowd nearest to where he was standing.

"Where did this happen? How?" his tone was still calm, but firm, masking a fury that Cyan wouldn't otherwise have thought him capable.

"Installation 37" the voice on the other end crackled in response, "Details are unclear, sir."

"One of our research labs." the general said, "What did they take?"

"Supplies. Three cargo containers of Dust on flatbed trucks. They broke through the east gate and escaped onto the highway."

"And you're sure it's him?"

"Yes, general. We got a positive I.D. from the camera footage. It's Torchwick."

Cyan's expression widened and she traded looks with Roan.

"Which direction were they headed?" General Ironwood demanded.

"South towards Route 15. Our nearest forces are scrambling now to intercept but at best they're still twenty minutes away."

He glanced at the wall in thought, "That's not too far from here. Winter, start assembling a response unit from the ceremony detail."

The woman shook her head, "Sir, we don't know what he's planning. If this is part of some larger plot, we can't risk leaving you or anyone else here unguarded."

For a moment, he looked as though he were going to order her to action, but then nodded and sighed in resignation and spoke again into the scroll.

Cyan had heard enough. She turned away from the situation and headed for the doors leading out of the auditorium, with the others following closely on her heels.

"Hold on." Vermilion said, "Where are you going?"

"Where do you think?" she replied, pushing the door open into the hall, "This is what we've been waiting for!"

"This is a military matter." Roan said, "It will be dangerous for us to get involved."

She considered that for a moment, and then shook the doubts away, "It might also be our only chance. If they get to him first, or worse, if he gets away, we might never find him again."

Vermilion and Roan seemed to agree. Lyohniy folded his arms in front of him and looked down, "I guess so, but… how are we supposed to catch up to him?"

Cyan looked off into the distance of the empty hallway in front of her as the possibilities whirled in her mind. Then she looked up at Lyohniy as a smile slowly crept across her lips. After a moment, he noticed her grinning at him.

"What?"


	13. Chapter 11

"I am not okay with this!"

Lyohniy had to shout to be heard over the sound of the wind howling around him as his cherry red convertible sped down the road towards the highway. Dressed fully for battle the four of them had a hard enough time fitting in the car as it was, and having the top up was a luxury they couldn't afford. Roan sat hunched in the front seat with one hand on the door and the other braced against the dashboard. Vermilion sat behind him, firmly gripping his lance to keep it from flying out of the car. With her weapon likewise preventing her from sitting back, Cyan held herself forward with one hand on the back of the driver's seat.

"Which part?" she asked.

Lyohniy's hands spun the steering wheel as he stole a look over his shoulder, "The part where my baby is put at great personal risk!"

Cyan raised an eyebrow at him and tilted her head to the side, "…Your what?"

"Hey, you have your sweetheart." he shouted again, "I have mine!"

Roan pointed his hand forward for a moment before bracing it against the dash again, "Turn left."

Lyohniy growled at his navigator in frustration and pulled the car into the unexpected turn. Cyan felt her stomach lurch as they accelerated rapidly through the intersection. The motor churned loudly and the chill of the early evening sent goosebumps up her arms. Street lights began to flicker to life as they rode past and the last rays of the sun gradually disappeared behind the looming city skyline. At the next intersection, she spotted the flashing blue and red lights of a patrol car that had stopped in the middle of the road. As the four of them barreled towards it, an officer stepped forward and waved for them to stop. Lyohniy ground his teeth and mashed down on the brake, bringing the car to an abrupt halt. This close to the intersection Cyan could see five cars in total, blocking the road in all directions. She should have guessed that military would coordinate with locals to keep civilians out of harm's way.

"Great." Lyohniy sighed with irritation, "Which way now?"

Before anyone could answer him a loud, deep rumbling echoed towards them from further down the intersecting street. The officers all turned to stare at the sight of an enormous three-axled tractor cab as it thundered down the road in their direction. It was much larger than a normal commercial cab, and looked to be built for bear with armored tires and a ram bar mounted across the grill. After a few seconds it became clear that it wasn't going to stop in time, and the officers dove for cover. The truck engine roared as the cab crashed through two of the blockading cars, flipping them into the air. When it passed in front of them, Cyan could see it was hauling behind it an industrial shipping container resting on a flatbed trailer. It smashed it's way through the car at the opposite end of the intersection, hurtling it into the nearby building. Two more identical rigs followed close behind, along with over a score of motorcycles buzzing and weaving around them like a swarm of angry hornets. From their formation, it was pretty clear they were acting as an escort instead of a pursuit. The riders all wore dark, indistinguishable leathers and full face helmets with polarized visors. The convoy sped through the intersection as the stunned officers looked on, helpless to stop them.

The ensuing silence was broken by Roan, who extended a hand in the direction the trucks had gone.

"That way."

Everyone stared at him, and Lyohniy shifted the car into gear and sped after them without a word.

The convertible followed in pursuit towards the city center. Roan guessed that they must have been forced off of the highway at some point and we're likely making their way back towards it. He directed them to the nearest on-ramp, following signs that lead out of the city. They entered the highway, frantically searching the tangled interchange of roads for their quarry.

"There they are!"

Cyan followed her brother's outstretched hand until she saw the trucks on the tier of roadways just above them. Lyohniy let out an exasperated sigh and crossed over three lanes in as many seconds to reach an exchange that would take them up. Horns blasted behind them as they wove through the busy traffic and circled the ramp in record time, entering the expressway above. The tires screeched again as he pushed the gas pedal to the floor, closing the gap between the nearest truck in front of them.

One of the riders near the back of the convoy glanced over his shoulder and noted the rapidly approaching car. Cyan saw him exchange a number of hand signals with the others, and the three rigs began to pick up speed. Fat chance, Cyan thought. There was no way those trucks could outrun them while hauling that much cargo. As if in response to her thoughts, several of the motorcycles weaved around them and began to drop back. The two closest riders each lifted a sleek-looking automatic weapon into view and took aim at the car from over their shoulder.

"Ah, geez!" Lyohniy exclaimed in surprise, swerving the car around the deserted traffic lanes in an effort to prevent the riders from drawing a bead on them. The tires squealed in protest as Cyan and the others took cover from the hail of gunfire that erupted over their heads and splashed off of the ground around them. Vermilion quickly thumbed the controls on his weapon, raised his bow, and snapped a shot at one of the cycles to their left. The rider ducked his head and accelerated from Vermilion's direct line of fire. On the right, Roan drew a single blade from his sheathe and, when the cycle came close enough, hurled it into the outstretched weapon barrel. It exploded on impact, destroying the gun utterly, and sent the bike careening into the nearby guardrail. Metal and plastic crunched as the bike was twisted into a wreck and its rider hurled to the ground, rolling to a stop on the side of the road. Undaunted by the sight of their fallen comrade, the rest of the riders continued the assault in a carefully choreographed pattern.

"Was there a plan here?!" Lyohniy called out to no one in particular during a futile attempt at steering the car into one of the bikes that had gotten a little too close. The rider easily pulled away and began leveling his weapon at them. In an impressive feat of dexterity, Lyohniy managed to fish one of his pistols out from behind him in his left hand and sprayed several shots in the bikes direction. The shocked rider quickly dropped back even further to avoid the counterattack.

Cyan tightened her grip around the driver's headrest, "Stop the bad guys, interrogate Torchwick and find out what he knows, leave them for the police to find while we escape."

"Stop them. Right." Lyohniy chuckled, entirely without humor, "How, exactly?"

Cyan winced, unable to look at him as she responded "Didn't really think that far ahead…"

Lyohniy's shoulders visibly slumped as he turned a wide-eyed stare in her direction. The sound of engines howled around them like a pack of ravening wolves as the riders steadily began to encircle the car.

"V!" Cyan desperately shouted, "We need breathing room!"

"On it!" he replied, his eyes never once leaving the swarm of enemies around them.

With one hand on his weapon and the other on the car door, he studied the rider's maneuvers, looking for any opening he could exploit. After a few seconds he must have found it because he began to flex the fingers gripping his weapon in anticipation. His gaze locked onto the motorcycle nearest to him as it drifted closer and closer. He didn't even flinch when the rider aimed his gun at him.

The car shuddered underneath them when Vermilion leaped a full four meters into the air. The stunned rider fired at him uselessly as he tried to adjust his aim upwards, and Vermilion descended upon the bike landing squarely on the seat behind him. They struggled briefly for control of the gun, but after a few sharp blows the rider was thrown to the ground with a shout of surprise before tumbling to a stop on the side of the road.

Vermilion shuffled forward in the seat and quickly grabbed the handlebars, twisting the throttle to keep pace with the others. Roughly half of the remaining riders broke off their attack to deal with this new threat. Vermilion lifted his left hand high overhead and quickly spun his weapon on an open palm, transforming it back into a lance. He then gunned the throttle straight at the nearest motorcycle, and swept the tip of his blade along the ground, slicing cleanly through the back tire and dropping the bike in a wreck. Another one approached from Vermilion's right, and with a quick shift in grip he swiped the lance over his opposite shoulder. The first strike smashed through the windshield sending a hail of shattered plexiglass into the staggered rider. The second cleaved through the chain guard in a shower of sparks and the bike drifted to a halt.

Another of the riders further ahead pulled back hard on the handlebars, lifting the front wheel of his motorcycle into the air to spin it a full one hundred and eighty degrees before setting it back down, pointed straight in Vermilion's direction. He took aim with his rifle as the two of them bore down on each other and loosed a stream of weapon fire in a series of controlled bursts. Vermilion artfully leaned his bike through the assault, using his weapon to swat the occasional shot out of the air. Once they were close enough, he adjusted the grip on his weapon closer to the bottom of the shaft like a jousting lance. He speared the other bike's headlight and, with a sharp cry, funneled the raw kinetic force of his Semblance through the attack. With a screech of metal grinding on metal the lance burrowed through the other bike until it hit the engine block, lifting the whole thing into the air, flipping end over end completely and depositing the rider to the ground.

With more of the escort thinning out around them, Lyohniy straightened the wheel and pressed harder on the gas. As he approached the back of the trailer, the doors suddenly burst open. Rows of storage crates marked with volatile Dust warning symbols were stacked to the ceiling, held in place by loading straps. In front of those were another four armed men arranged in a firing line, two of them down on one knee, taking careful aim at the car with high-powered assault rifles. These ones were dressed differently than the bikers: all black sweatshirts, slacks, and combat boots with dark sunglasses instead of riding leathers. Lyohniy's eyes widened as he began to feather the brakes.

"Roan!" Cyan's voice rang out.

A soft, affirming grunt was his only reply before he sprang into action less than a heartbeat later. Lyohniy's eyes darted in his direction and he winced as he pushed the pedal to the floor, trying to get him within range of the trailer before it was too late. Just as the new group of assailants began to open fire, Roan abruptly vanished from the passenger seat. The gunmen cut their attack short when they saw one of their number hit the floor of the trailer with a thud that sent his rifle skittering across the highway. The three that remained turned to stare behind them as Roan stood up straight and clenched his hands into fists, snapping the punching daggers into position.

The first gunman shrieked in terror when Roan descended on him, and attempted to brace his gun in front of him as a shield. With a single smooth upward slice, Roan cleaved the gun in two then planted both of his heels into the man's chest with a backwards flip, throwing him into the kneeling man behind him hard enough to knock the both of them into the wall. The third stood up fast and swung the butt of his rifle through the air like a club. Roan swayed at the waist, ducking his entire upper body out of the way of the strike and spun around to hammer the man with a sharp elbow to the back of the neck and then followed up with a roundhouse kick that brought him to the floor. The first man that Roan had knocked down regained his footing, as did the one that been pinned to the wall by his companion. Both of them produced a small metal stick from inside their jacket, which grew into a rod a half meter in length that crackled with electricity with the press of a button. Roan ducked under the first stun baton, and crossed his blades in front of him to block the second as he simultaneously thrust a heel in the first man's chest. He continued to evade their attacks until the second man made an awkward forward lunged. Roan turned his back to the man and vanished, reappearing behind him to shove him forward into his companion, who was quickly incapacitated by the electrical charge. He then leaped over the man's head, coiling his legs around his neck like a snake, and pulled the stunned man into the air through his forward dive before throwing him upside down against the trailer wall.

Seeing that Roan had the fight well in hand, Cyan directed Lyohniy to pull forward past the trailer. Vermilion followed them, continuing to swat aside the motorcycle escort as they tried to intervene. Steadily, the car approached the cab until it was nearly parallel with the open driver's side window.

"Hey!" Lyohniy shouted at the cab, attempting to get his attention over the roar of the engine, "HEY!"

The driver briefly flicked his gaze, which was mostly hidden behind a pair of darkened sunglasses, at the car before both he and his passenger turned to stare in bewilderment.

Lyohniy paused, apparently surprised that they actually listened, "…Pull over!"

"Ha!" the driver laughed out loud, "Yeah, right kid! Like this?"

He then turned the wheel sharply in the car's direction, attempting to smash them into the guardrail. With another growl of frustration, Lyohniy slammed on the brakes, narrowly evading the trailer as it was dragged ever closer to them like the crest of an oncoming wave. Once he was clear of the immediate danger, he snatched up his pistol again and opened fire at the enormous tires on the back of the trailer. Despite scoring several direct hits, they refused to burst. Cyan mused on how military-grade vehicles were certainly built to last. Inside of the open trailer doors, Roan was bracing himself against a stack of crates with one hand while struggling with his leg and forearm in an attempt to push off the assailant that had apparently been thrown into him by the sudden motion.

"I think I can stop it!" Vermilion shouted, pulling his bike alongside the car, "Roan! Get ready to bail!"

Roan pried the huge gloved hand away from his face as he gave his muffled reply, "Hrmf… not… a… problem."

With that he thrust his leg outward, tossing the much larger man away from him and disappeared deeper into the trailer.

Vermilion peeled away from the car in the direction of the truck's passenger side and began to accelerate forward, flexing his fingers around his weapon in anticipation. Lyohniy followed close behind, and Cyan's eyes were drawn to the sight of Roan throwing open a hatch on the roof of the trailer and climbing out on top of it. He held himself low, bracing against the intense wind as he carefully made his way forward. Vermilion eased up on the throttle to adjust his speed before flicking a control lever that locked both it and the handlebars into place.

Cyan's eyes widened as she watched him draw his legs up under him until he was hunched on the bike seat in a crouch. His eyes darkened in deep focus as he glued them onto the tractor cab.

_No_, she thought, _he's not going to…_

"NOW!" he shouted.

And then he jumped.

The eyes of everyone nearby were drawn to the sight of Vermilion's Semblance carrying him into the air, clearing the top of four meter high trailer by an additional six. Roan broke into as much of a run as he could manage and made a short hop down, using his own Semblance to bring him back into the relative safety of the front passenger seat. Lyohniy cut the wheel hard and steered as far away from the rig as he could.

As Vermilion descended towards the tractor cab, the raw power he absorbed and channeled around him began to coalesce until it formed the outline of a visible red cone. He concentrated into a full head first dive, funneling the energy into a spiral around the tip of his spear and angling himself precisely and carefully at the hood. His voice rang out in a furious cry as he thrust the spear into the hood which crumpled under the force of the impact like tissue paper. The road surface beneath the cab was shredded from trying to absorb the trucks forward momentum without its tires to carry it. As the front of the rig was forcefully slowed down, the back end of the trailer lifted nearly a full meter off of the ground before crashing back to the street with another thundering impact that crushed the rear axle. Immediately after the making contact, Vermilion used his lance as a pole vault, swinging the last bit of his downward momentum around into a forward jump, just as his stolen motorcycle pulled past him. The bike pitched and buckled from the impact as he landed back on the seat and he quickly grabbed the handlebars to stop it from falling over.

"Woooh!" Lyohniy called out to him, laughing as he did so.

Cyan looked worriedly at the destroyed rig behind them as the men that were still capable of moving crawled out one by one and collapsed onto the street. Roan turned back to look at her as if sensing her thoughts and said, "He wasn't inside."

She looked to him in the passenger seat and nodded, "One of the other one's then."

Then she turned her worried gaze at her brother. He carried himself with determination, but the exertion had clearly taken its toll. It was very unlikely he had any more attacks like that left in him, at least for a while. She furrowed her brow and quickly surveyed the two remaining trucks growing larger in front of her, as well as the remaining swarm of other motorcycles that was rapidly closing in.

Cyan gently touched one hand to Lyohniy's shoulder and pointed at second of the remaining trailers, "Get me closer. Roan? Follow my lead."

Again Roan nodded, taking a few measured breaths to steady himself.

"V?" She called out over the sound of the engines, "Back Lyoh up and clear the rest of these guys out."

The two of them look at her, then looked at each other. Vermilion gave her an affirming nod and a little smile played across his features. Lyohniy smiled as well, though his was much more sinister, eyeing the bikes closely as he wrapped his fingers around the wheel and hit the gas.

Two more riders approached the car from either side, but Vermilion was on top of them before they could even draw up their weapons. He pulled up just behind the one on the passenger side and thrust, missing the back tire by mere centimeters as the rider sharply swerved away from the car. Using his legs to guide the bike, Vermilion shifted his lance back to a bow with a twirl, drew back a shot, and quickly loosed a bolt of energy that knocked his bike out from under him. The other rider watched his companion fall, and turned back just in time to see Cyan standing up in the back passenger seat in a ready stance, holding her massive sword braced across her chest. His surprised scream made her smirk, and midway through her swing she turned her wrists to smack him with the flat of the blade. The tires on his bike screeched as he tumbled to the ground. Cyan held her sword behind her and crouched back down, nodding towards Lyohniy. The gap between them and the next trailer steadily disappeared.

"Get around to the front!" Cyan shouted.

"Right!" Lyohniy's hands whirled around on the steering wheel.

But this driver wasn't going to make it as easy as the first one. He swerved the rig to cut them off when the car approached. Lyohniy clicked his tongue in frustration and braked hard, slowing up enough to avoid a collision with the trailer. He approached from the other side and met eyes with the rig driver in his side-view mirror as the truck swerved again. Despite the convertible's agility and speed advantage, they couldn't accelerate fast enough to make it to the front of the rig before getting cut off. After two more failed attempts, Lyohniy growled and grabbed for one of his pistols again. He fired a single shot that blasted away the passenger side mirror. The driver reflexively swerved in that direction, which Lyohniy anticipated and went the other way. On the other side, he knocked out the driver's mirror in only two shots. Before he could use the driver's impaired vision to his advantage, two passengers leaned out of the cab's windows on both sides, brandishing the same heavy assault rifles as the others. Lyohniy quickly hid the car from their view by moving directly behind the trailer.

Cyan placed a hand on Lyohniy's shoulder, "We'll take the long way. Roan!"

"Mm." He nodded and moved to back her up.

Lyohniy tailgated closer behind the trailer and Cyan saw the locking bolts on the doors begin to slide out of place. She grabbed her sword out of its leather strap and quickly darted forward to the hood of the car, much to Lyohniy and Roan's surprise. Before the trailer occupants could get the doors open all the way, she slammed them shut again with a single swing of her sword. The strike also wrenched the bolt into an odd shape, preventing it from opening again. She looked over her shoulder at Roan who appeared at the top of the trailer in the blink of an eye, reaching his hand down towards her. She jumped off of the hood and grabbed it, swinging easily to the top beside him.

The two of them stood up and sprinted for the front of the rig. At roughly the halfway point on top of the trailer, a hatch popped open and several armed men began spilling out onto the roof. Roan threw his arms behind him and snapped his daggers into position, as Cyan took her sword in hand and grinned. The men stood in a relatively competent firing position and spat a stream of gunfire her direction. Cyan's sword wove a defensive tapestry that turned the hard rain away. Upon reaching the first two men, she crouched and spun her sword in a complete circle that knocked them both off of their feet and clear off the side of the trailer. A third man gaped at her and tried to level his rifle. Roan dashed into him, and swiftly cut the barrel of his gun off before dropping low and sweeping his legs out from under him. The two of them pressed forward, disposing of the assailants one by one as more of them appeared from the open hatch. She flicked her gaze at Roan, pointing a hand downward. He nodded, sliding the heel of his foot into the head of the latest man to appear at the top of the hatch. He fell back down into the trailer in a daze, and Roan disappeared after him.

Cyan continued on, easily clearing the gap between the cab and the trailer, landing on the hood in a crouch. She heard the occupants startled exclamation as she raised her sword high overhead and brought it down hard on the hood. She blinked in surprise as her strike glanced off of the thick metal plating with barely a scratch. She tried again a second and third time, managing little more than a dent. Before she could raise her weapon to strike again, the truck suddenly swerved out from under her. Cyan fell to one knee, pressing her free hand on the hood while she glared at the men in the cab and thrust her sword tip into the windshield to hold herself in place. The three of them recoiled in surprise, but Cyan immediately became distracted by an odd warm sensation beneath her palm. She turned her eyes back towards the hood and gingerly felt around with her fingers, then smiled.

She closed her eyes and began to concentrate on the sensation of warmth and the sounds of the truck engine churning beneath her. Before long she honed in on the combustion of Dust inside the engine and reached out for it. As she took hold of that energy and began to draw it outward in a familiar bright glow, the engine began to stutter out and stall.

"What's wrong with you?" one of the men behind her shouted, "Speed it up!"

"It's not me!" the driver shouted back in disbelief, "The whole thing's going dead! How's she doin' that?"

At last the truck sputtered to a halt, and the passengers inside the cab turned their attention to the subtle whoosh of air being displaced behind them. They stared, and Roan stared right back at them. In a matter of moments, he knocked all three of them senseless and out onto the street. Cyan took a few breaths and opened her eyes again, turning to face him. He shook his head in dismay.

The convertible pulled to a stop alongside them as Vermilion raced on ahead.

"Two down." Lyohniy beamed at her, "One to go. C'mon!"

She returned his smile and hopped into the back seat. In that same instant Roan appeared in the front seat next to Lyohniy and the car sped off. With a quick glance, she noted that he was right. The entire escort had been taken down, and there was no longer anyone else following them. She felt her hands fairly tremble with eagerness as they sped closer to the last rig. This was it.

As the four of them approached the trailer, Cyan was surprised to see someone standing on top of it. His bright orange hair fluttered in the winds out from under a black bowler hat with a feather stuck in the brim, and a grey scarf tied in a knot hung around his neck. At his shoulders was a loose fitting white trench coat with a large upturned collar, black gloves buckled at the wrists, and dark slacks. He was resting both hands on the hooked handle of a simple black walking cane in front of him. He stood with a casual ease, apparently indifferent to the circumstance of being on the top of a trailer that was racing down the open road. Cyan recognized him instantly from the file photo Roan had found last year.

"You know," his winsome voice carried to the car over the howling winds, "when they radioed to me that we were being attacked by a bunch of kids, I _thought_ it was just a metaphor."

Roman Torchwick shook his head, eyeing each of them with equal parts disbelief and contempt, "Do your parents know where you are?"

Cyan ground her teeth and dug her fingers into the headrest. Vermilion likewise seemed to take exception to the remark, as he quickly raised his bow and fired. Torchwick almost absentmindedly leaned his head out of the way, using one hand to hold his hat into place.

"Oookay." he mused, "Guess I'll consider that nerve touched."

He made a motion to brush off his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at them, "I'm sure you've all had _a lot_ of fun tonight, but I suggest you turn around right now and go home."

Lyohniy laughed, "Or what?"

Torchwick responded by pointing the tip of his cane at the car and clicking a button on the handle, and a tiny clear cover with a target reticle etched on it flipped upwards.

"Or else the kid gloves come off."

When he pressed the button again, the tip of the cane erupted in a burst of orange hues, and a large prolate spheroid of crackling energy barreled down at them accompanied by the high-pitched whistle of a lit firework. Lyohniy swerved at the last minute, and the shot hit the ground with an explosion strong enough to crack the surface of the asphalt and nearly throw the car into the guardrail. Cyan was more than a little shocked by the force behind that attack. Torchwick snickered and leveled the cane, preparing to fire again. Vermilion's bike engine growled as he pulled forward to a better position, drew back on his bow, and got an attack off first. The arrow went wide as Torchwick spun on his heel and took aim at him instead. He fired several blasts one after another, and despite Vermilion's best evasive efforts each one landed closer than the last. Finally, one last shot struck the ground directly in front of him and the debris threw the bike too far off balance to recover. Vermilion stumbled to get his legs under him and quickly leaped away from the bike just as it started to fall, his Semblance propelling him high into the air. Lyohniy's eyes widened and he moved to line up the car underneath him.

Torchwick turned his body to the side, placing one hand on his hip as though he were at a competition shoot and lazily pointed his cane at Vermilion as he began to descend. He sneered maliciously and muttered, "Pull."

In the instant before he fired, Roan suddenly appeared in the air, interposing himself between Torchwick and the helpless Vermilion. In each hand was one of his daggers, and he threw them both in succession just as Torchwick pressed the trigger. The cane's discharge collided with the first dagger and the opposing blasts cancelled each other out. Torchwick growled and tried to readjust his aim, but the second dagger forced him to hop back several meters out of position, where he braced himself for the ensuing explosion. However, the second dagger did not explode, and Roan tumbled safely to standing in front of him. Torchwick chuckled, apparently both amused and annoyed by the successful bluff. On the street below, Lyohniy deftly wheeled the car into position, and the tires screeched from the sudden impact of Vermilion landing on the now vacant passenger seat. Cyan helped to pull him down safely, ensuring he didn't lose his balance and fall.

"Are you okay?" she asked fearfully.

Vermilion drew in several more breaths and nodded. He was exhausted, but alive. She sighed in relief and the three of them turned their attention back to the trailer.

Whatever else Cyan might have been expecting to see when she looked back up at the battle occurring above her, she was surprised to find Torchwick more than holding his own. Roan's twin punching daggers flashed against the evening sky in a dizzying attack pattern. Torchwick responded by artfully wielding his cane like a club, interposing it between the incoming strikes. After ducking away from a horizontal slash, Torchwick swung his cane upwards in both hands like a golf club. Roan managed to sway out of the way into a back handspring. He landed in a crouch and dove forward through the air with his arms pointed forward in front of him. Torchwick chuckled and shifted to the side with a quick spin and swatted Roan in the back of the head as he went past, knocking him down to the trailer just shy of the back edge. He stood up and shook the fog away just in time for Torchwick to plant his foot in the center of his back. Roan took the blow, but promptly vanished the instant Torchwick made contact, reappearing behind him and transferring his forward momentum into a kick of his own. Torchwick let out a surprised grunt and stumbled forward off the edge of the trailer.

Instead of falling, he hooked the handle of his cane around the back of Roan's neck. Roan let out a choking gasp as he struggled to regain his footing, but could not prevent Torchwick from maneuvering himself around, and dragging Roan off the trailer at the same time. In desperation, he grabbed at Torchwick's coat, his blades reflexively returning to their closed position, and tried to pull himself back up. Torchwick knocked his grip loose with a sweep of his arms, and clubbed him across the face one final time. Roan fell wordlessly from the trailer and landed on the hood of the car below. Vermilion and Cyan each grabbed him by the shoulders, while Lyohniy swerved and slowed down to prevent him from sliding onto the road. After losing a good sixtey or seventy meters on the truck, they managed to pull him into the back seat with Cyan where he held a hand to his head in a daze.

Once he was safely out of danger, Lyohniy let out an impressed whistle, "Man. He's good."

Cyan stood up in the back seat, gripped her sword firmly with both hands, and gritted her teeth, "He's finished."

She touched a control on the inside of the grip, and set her weapon into motion. With a sudden snap-hiss of pressurized air the handguard separated from the hilt almost entirely and rotated around as other mechanisms swiveled the outer edges of the split blade away from the barrel. The serrations of the cutting edge began to separate from the rest of the blade, which collapsed downward to form a support cradle around the sides and below the turbine in the hilt. One last burst of pressure sent the edges hurtling downward, intending to anchor the weapon against recoil.

Lyohniy's face faulted at the sound of the anchors tearing into the fabric of the car seats, and turned his head to stare at them, "Oh, come on!"

Cyan ignored him and turned the barrel of her fully transformed weapon in Torchwick's direction and quickly pressed the priming trigger. The turbine emitted a high-pitched whine as the energy inside of it began to build. Now recovered from his initial surprise at the sight of a somewhat large piece of artillery suddenly mounted on the back of a sports car, Torchwick quickly brought his cane up to bear and fired another blast. Vermilion leveled his bow carefully at the incoming attack, and detonated it with a shot of his own before it crossed even half the distance between them. Torchwick curled his lip and fired several more shots, and Vermilion answered each one in kind. The turbine whirled faster, glowing white-hot from the energy building inside. Cyan had to shout her brother out of the way when she was ready. He complied, as did Roan, and even Lyohniy, shifting as far down on the seat as he could.

Torchwick's eyes widened, and he spun his head in the direction of the cab while touching a hand to his ear, "Turn!"

Cyan caught a glimpse of the driver's shocked expression in his rear-view mirror just before the squeezed the trigger. He mouthed out an expletive and spun his steering wheel as far to the right as it would go.

An enormous bright blue column of solid energy erupted from the barrel of her gun with an ear-shattering explosion. Lyohniy struggled to regain control of the car when the recoil sent it into a skid. She had intended the blast to hit the roof of the trailer just where Torchwick was standing, but the sudden maneuvering caused her shot to go wide. It arced through the evening sky over the highway and landed several hundred meters in front of the rig where it destroyed a large portion of the road in an even more massive explosion. Torchwick turned his gaze back to the car, and threw himself down flat on the roof to avoid a second blast that sailed over his head. Cyan recycled the turbine and continued her assault. Each successive shot pushed their car further and further away, so she paused to allow Lyohniy to make up some of the distance while quietly cursing the circumstance that was allowing this to continue. If she had been firing from a stable position, she could have drilled him between the eyes with the first shot. Or at the very least disabled the truck. In spite of the driver's efforts, her last shot had clipped the upper-right corner of the trailer, shearing away the thick metal of the reinforced container into molten slag.

Torchwick stared at the hole in the trailer and shook his head, turning his attention towards the signs posted along the highway. After apparently settling upon one in particular he touched his earpiece again, "Plan B! Now!"

Without warning the truck violently swerved to a ramp that would take them off the expressway. Lyohniy had to brake almost to a complete stop to make the turn as well, and lost quite a bit of ground in the process. Cyan exchanged a questioning glance with Vermilion and Roan, the latter of whom turned his gaze skyward.

"There." he said, and pointed at something overhead.

In the distance Cyan could vaguely make out the twin jets of a Bullhead VTOL aircraft headed in their direction. Doubtless it was part of the military's response to the theft, acting as aerial reconnaissance for the ground-based pursuit. Thanks to her display up there, they had his position. And theirs.

"It doesn't matter!" she said with determination, "Even if they catch us with him, we'll still have time to get our answers if we end this now. Floor it!"

Lyohniy nodded, decidedly less sure than he had been up until now, and accelerated after the trailer. Cyan quickly checked the status indicator on her weapon and noted it was dangerously close to overheating. If she fired again now she would risk a barrel breach. With a frustrated growl, she quickly returned the cannon to it's original configuration and hunkered down in the car to reduce drag. Torchwick strode to the edge of the trailer wearing a supremely confident smirk on his face.

"It's been quite a ride, kiddos." he said, smugly tipping his hat, "But I have a boat to catch, so this is where you get off."

Cyan blinked at him, and then looked past the truck at the road ahead. She had been so intently focused on Torchwick that she hadn't even noticed they had turned back towards a mountain pass that led out of Atlas City. A huge man-made tunnel opened up into the darkness in front of them, illuminated only by the headlights of the cab.

Torchwick grinned even wider as he produced a small cylindrical device from inside his coat pocket and held it high overhead, and his voice positively oozed with condescension, "Now make sure to brush your teeth, finish your homework, be in bed by 10, and don't forget to take your consolation prize…"

Cyan look back and forth from him to the tunnel, and finally saw a ring of flashing red lights surrounding the entrance.

"No—!"

In the instant the front of the cab reached the tunnel, Torchwick clicked the button. The whole area around him was rocked by a series of violent explosions as the charges buried in the walls detonated in sequence. The first of the now loose rocks began to fall from the top of the tunnel and Torchwick gave a dramatic bow to just in time to duck underneath of them.

_No! _she screamed to herself, _They were so close…!_

Lyohniy slammed on the brakes, sending the car skidding across the road in a near-spinout. He managed to recover enough to slide the car sideways, finally screeching to a halt after bumping up against the edge of the collapsed tunnel. The truck vanished into the darkness, and Torchwick along with it, while the road between them was covered in destroyed stone. Cyan slumped back in the car seat, her stomach in knots, and her whole body utterly numb. All that effort, and nothing to show for it.

The sensation of someone gently shaking her shoulder brought her back around. She looked up in her brother's worried eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked her again.

She nodded and quietly responded, "Yes." and then took his hand and pulled herself up from the seat, "Is everyone else okay?"

Though exhausted, Vermilion was largely unhurt. Roan sported a few bruises but had no serious injuries. Lyohniy on the other hand was leaning over the edge of the car, unmoving and silent.

"Lyoh?" she said fearfully, and moved to stand over him. He was awake, gingerly running his hands over the car exterior, carefully examining tiny dings and dents caused by the abrupt stop against the debris. Each additional scratch he detected provoked his ire anew.

Cyan rolled her eyes and sat back in the seat.

"He's fine." she announced to Vermilion and Roan, both of whom breathed a sigh of relief.

A spotlight shone down around them, and Cyan suddenly became aware of the Bullhead's twin jet engines whirring overhead accompanied by sirens approaching them from the distance. The four of them stayed in their seats as a veritable fleet of police cars and other emergency service vehicles pulled up to the scene and screeched to a halt some distance away from the convertible. A number of uniformed policemen filed out with their weapons drawn. After a quick examination of the scene, the one in the lead holstered his pistol, and it was then that Cyan recognized him.

"So let me guess." Detective Greene said, his voice fairly laden with sarcasm, "You were minding your own business, when suddenly they just came at you. Out of nowhere, right?"

Cyan, Vermilion, and Lyohniy all exchanged a glance, along with a nervous laugh.


	14. Chapter 12

Cyan and her friends sat quietly on uncomfortable aluminum chairs inside the interview room of the police station. The only other occupant, Detective Greene, paced across the other side of a long table, eyeing them in silence. A single overhead lamp provided the only illumination in the otherwise empty room. Their equipment, armor included, had been confiscated upon arrival, leaving Cyan feeling more than a little vulnerable, not to mention cold. She held her arms around her to prevent herself from shivering.

"All right." the detective said, crossing his arms in front of him, "Let's go over it again."

Lyohniy slouched in his chair and sighed loudly, "Oh c'mon, man…"

Cyan leaned forward in her seat, "It's like we already told you. We went out to celebrate our graduation…"

"Uh huh." Greene interrupted, nodding skeptically, "And where were you headed?"

"We hadn't decided yet!" Lyohniy said, throwing up his hands.

"We _were_ planning on cruising around for a little while." Vermilion added.

Detective Greene took his seat opposite of them, "So what happened next?"

"Our car encountered a police barricade." Roan said, his voice icy calm, "Before we could turn around, a military vehicle convoy destroyed it."

Greene sat back in his chair and folded his arms again, "A convoy that had just happened to have been stolen by Roman Torchwick."

"Who?" Cyan asked.

The detective turned a critical eye towards her. "The one that collapsed the tunnel," he glanced down at his notebook, "and escaped on the last truck. You didn't know?"

She shrugged, "He didn't say."

A heavy silence descended on the room. Detective Greene pursed his lips and stared at them. Everyone stared back, except for Lyohniy, who continued to fidget uncomfortably in his seat.

"…Uh huh." Greene said, finally, "He's garnered quite the reputation as an enterprising criminal. He also just happened to be in contact with that gang that jumped you last year."

He set his notes down on the table and looked up at her again, "But I suppose you didn't know that either?"

Cyan continued her unbroken stare but said nothing. Vermilion rested his hands on the table, "Must be a coincidence."

Detective Greene nodded his head, entirely unconvinced, "I don't believe I need to explain to you my opinion on 'coincidence', son."

"And I don't believe we're still here!" Lyohniy shouted, pushing his chair back from the table and pacing towards the far wall, "All we were trying to do was help! How many more times are you going to ask us the same thing?!"

Greene stood up after him, narrowed his eyes, and pointed, "As many times as it takes for your answers to start making sense."

Before anyone could say anything else the door the room swung open. Greene whirled around, furious at the interruption, "What do you think—"

General James Ironwood entered the room, looking very imposing in his glistening white uniform, with the woman called Winter Schnee following closely on his heels.

The detective continued, apparently unfazed by the sight, "What do you think you're doing here, General?"

The general strode forward with his hands folded behind him, and swept his eyes across the four of them. They all stared back with varying degrees of shock and surprise. All except Roan, who wore the same blank expression he'd been wearing since he first sat down.

"Could you excuse us for a moment?" General Ironwood said, without turning around, "I'd like to ask these children a few questions."

"What questions?! This…" Greene shouted before quickly composing himself, "this is still an open investigation."

"Unfortunately," the general said almost apologetically, "since it involved the theft of property from a military installation, it also falls under military jurisdiction."

Detective Greene opened his mouth to argue the point, but then closed it again. He scowled at the general and let out an exasperated sigh, "You're really going to play it like this, James?"

A little smile formed near the edge of Ironwood's mouth. Cyan blinked and looked back and forth between them.

"You've done excellent work." Ironwood said, taking a tone of polite dismissal in his voice, "I hope that I, and all of Atlas, can continue to rely on you."

Greene accepted the compliment with a roll of his eyes, and glanced between Winter, the general, and the four of them before heading for the door.

"Good luck." he said to them before closing the door behind him.

General Ironwood calmly walked forward until he stood on the opposite side of the table, with Winter standing right behind him. For several moments no one moved, including Lyohniy who was still standing off to the side. The general glanced at him and gestured to the empty chair with an open palm, "Please, take a seat."

Lyohniy quickly moved to the chair and sat, affecting as confident a stare as he could manage. Winter lifted an eyebrow at him, and then opened the scroll in her hand, quickly gliding through several screens of text.

"That seemed a little personal." Cyan noted, nodding towards the closed door.

Ironwood looked in her direction in silence, and she quickly added, "Um, sir."

He quirked his mouth into an amused smile and asked, "How so?"

She nervously rubbed a hand on her leg, "Well I… it just seemed like you two know each other."

He chuckled and nodded, "Very observant of you. The detective is a former academy student. He suffered an injury on a practice mission. I helped him apply to the police force after he recovered."

She suddenly became aware that Winter was watching her carefully. Icy blue eyes studied every inch of her expression with a long calculating stare for a long before she turned her attention back to the scroll.

"I've read over the incident report." General Ironwood began, "And there are some things I'd like to clarify."

He then looked at her brother, "First, you, young man…"

"Vermilion Athelward, sir." he said assertively.

The general nodded, "Vermilion. I understand that you were the one who stopped the first trailer. That was quite a mess you left. I'm curious as to how you did it."

Vermilion worked his mouth in silence as he considered his response, "With my Semblance, sir.

The general exchanged a glance with Winter, then nodded for him to continue, "Go on."

Her brother raised a hand and flexed his fingers into a fist, "With every movement you make, your body generates kinetic energy. Each footstep, each sway of your arms, everything— even just falling. I can use my aura to store that energy away, a little at a time, and release as much of it as I need to. Whether it's gaining a height advantage, or crushing an armored trailer." he looked up at Ironwood again, "Kinetic Conversion."

The general nodded along as he listened, "Impressive."

Vermilion rested his hand on the table with a modest shrug, "It's just basic physics."

Ironwood looked at Cyan, "And it was you that stopped the second one. And you did so without leaving a scratch."

"That's right." she offered, rather than wait for the obvious followup question, "My Semblance is Dust to Dust. It's… kind of hard to explain," it was a painful admission to make, but she had never really been able to satisfactorily match words to the feelings and sensations, "but basically, I can stop reactions from taking place."

"Like during your demonstration." he said, clearly as a statement of fact rather than a question.

She nodded and glanced at the table with embarrassment, "Though I never tried it on a car engine before."

"I see." General Ironwood said and looked over his shoulder, "Would you say that sounds about right?"

"Yes sir." Winter replied, and closed the scroll, "Exactly as their transcripts describe."

Lyohniy and Vermilion looked at each other in confusion. Roan maintained his steely-eyed stare. Cyan gaped at him and said, "You mean… everything we just said: you already knew all of it?"

"That's correct."

Cyan screwed up her expression even further, "Then why bother asking—", she paused, and the knot forming at her brow loosened in sudden realization, "…You were testing us."

"Also correct." he paced away from them, hands still held behind his back, and stared into the one-way mirror that made up a large portion of the far wall as though he were peering through it, "I wanted to get a sense of the type of people you were before we continued."

He turned to walk back closer to the table, "You answered with honesty and integrity. And you did so as though it were second nature. That's the mark possessed by those of exceptional character that I've seen many times amongst some of the greatest people I've known."

Lyohniy shifted forward in his seat, "Well what about me, sir? You didn't ask me anything."

Another one of those little knowing smiles crossed the general's lips, "I didn't have to, Mr. Zee. I knew of your father, and his service record more than speaks for itself."

He paused and gave a firm nod in Roan's direction, "As does yours, Mr. Shikari."

Cyan had to work hard to keep the shocked expression off of her face. She made a point to hold her gaze on General Ironwood when she saw out of the corner of her eye that Winter was watching her and the other three carefully. When she was certain it would go unnoticed, Cyan flicked her gaze at Roan. He sat motionless, maintaining his stone-faced, unblinking stare.

"I have an enormous responsibility to the people of this kingdom," General Ironwood said, "and there is nothing that goes on within it's borders that I don't find out about."

"And now that I know you're individuals of great character, I want to ask you…" he made an almost imperceptible nod in Winter's direction. With an equally subtle acknowledgement, she closed her eyes and placed a hand on her chest with her index and middle finger extended, and a small, glowing, white multi-pointed star resembling a snowflake surrounded by a circle appeared in the air in front of her. From the corner of her eye, Cyan noticed an identical symbol appearing around the lense of the security camera mounted on the ceiling of the room. The strange glyph rotated several times as it began to constrict, and the camera emitted a low buzz of interference.

Seemingly satisfied, Ironwood continued, "…just between us, and off the record: did you have a more personal reason for pursuing that convoy other than, 'because you happened to be there'?"

The room descended into a hushed silence, and everyone's eyes fell upon Cyan. She stared at the table deep in thought. From a practical standpoint, there was really no point in trying to conceal anything now; the truth was already written all over their collective faces. The more thought she gave it, the less sense it made to try and hide her motives. The police and military were both after Torchwick just as much as she was, if not for the same reasons.

She couldn't bring herself to look the general in the eyes. After a long silence, she gave a slow nod and quietly answered, "…Yes."

The tension seemed to abate, as though the entire room had just exhaled a collective held breath.

"I thought as much." General Ironwood said simply.

After a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence, he looked to Winter and said, "It's time we left." he turned and addressed the four of them at the table, "It seems you all have a decision to make. I'd advise you to take some time and consider your options thoroughly."

All of them stared at each other almost completely lost for words.

"Wait a minute." Cyan called after him as he started for the door. "That's it? You… you don't even want to know why?"

"Your reasons are irrelevant, Ms. Mireille." he gave her his attention while somehow managing to avoid looking directly at her, "If you are intent on pursuing a criminal like Torchwick, then that is your choice. As you've already seen, I could even make an opportunity for you to work in law enforcement."

His eyes suddenly hardened, and his voice took on a more serious tone, "But the life of a Huntress demands great sacrifice. If that is the life you are choosing, then you must be willing to give of yourself for the benefit of others."

The four of them stared up at the general from their chairs. She could feel his presence weighing down on her like a vise, "Whatever your personal reasons, I expect you to be capable of putting them aside. Someone who can't do that has no place at an academy."

Winter opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Ironwood turned to face them one last time, "Ultimately the choice is yours. No one can fight for a cause they don't believe in. Think it over carefully. And if you decide that is something you are capable of doing, I'll look forward to your applications in the fall."

With that he turned and swept from the room, and Winter closed the door behind them.

A heavy silence followed, and none of them moved until an officer came by about thirty minutes later to tell them they were free to go. Their equipment was returned to them and, after retrieving Lyohniy's car from the police impound lot, they stowed it securely in the trunk. Cyan found it difficult to process her thoughts. It felt like her mind was mired in a thick fog that permitted only the slowest movement forward. It seemed everyone else shared similar feelings from their experience, except for Lyohniy who started chattering endlessly the moment they pulled out of the station.

"That was so crazy, right?!" he said jubilantly, "I mean, General Ironwood! I can't believe my dad knew him and never said anything!"

"It's likely that he wasn't a general back then." Roan offered quietly.

"Yeah, that's true I guess…", Lyohniy quickly shot him a look, "Oh yeah! You're not off the hook either, buddy. What was that all about in there with your 'service record'?"

A sudden stab of guilt flashed across Roan's features, "I…"

Vermilion raised his eyes towards the front passenger seat. It was clear from looking at him that Roan was struggling to come up with a response.

"It was after the protest when my parents were killed." Roan said slowly, "Things got bad. Enough so that the military was called in to stabilize the situation. They found me: an orphan with no home or other family. I would have eventually starved in the streets somewhere. But the commanding officer saw something special in me, or perhaps an opportunity. When his forces pulled out, he brought me with him."

"Ironwood did that for you?" Vermilion asked.

Roan shook his head, "No. I didn't meet him until much later, when the major who rescued me proposed his plan. I was to be trained for infiltration. Then I would join the White Fang and report their activities to Atlas Military Intelligence."

Lyohniy's eyes widened with almost childlike wonder, "You were a spy?" he said, as a broad grin spread across his face, "That is so _cool!_"

One of Roan's ears turned flat, and he stared at Lyohniy with a curious expression on his face.

"Wow." Vermilion tried to be as delicate he could, "That's…um… you're taking this news surprisingly well, Lyoh."

He gave a little shrug with one shoulder, "What? It's not like he was spying on us."

Lyohniy paused and glanced at Roan from the corner of his eye, "You weren't, right?"

Roan blinked again and shook his head.

"There, you see?" Lyohniy said with thorough satisfaction.

Vermilion rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, seeing little choice other than to surrender to Lyohniy's relentless optimism. He glanced at Roan as several more pieces started to come together, "So, then that day we first met you…"

Roan looked down in shame and nodded, "I made a terrible mistake. I was compromised."

"No wonder the White Fang were so mad." Lyohniy said.

"Didn't the military ever wonder what happened to you?" Vermilion asked.

"I contacted them once." he assented, "Explained where I was, and everything that had happened. I was told to standby and await further orders." he turned to look at Vermilion, "That was eight months ago."

Lyohniy's jaw clenched in anger as he started to get it, "So then they just hung you out to dry?!"

Roan shrugged, and stared off into the distance, "How much effort would you expend on a tool that no longer served its function?"

No one said anything after that. Vermilion turned his gaze to the back seat. Cyan sat there in silence, staring straight ahead, her arms still wrapped around her waist. She had listened to the conversation, but found it just as difficult to process as everything else. Vermilion gently touched a hand to her shoulder.

"Cyan? You okay?"

She blinked once, the sound of his voice bringing her out of her trance, "Huh?"

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I… I don't… I just—"

Roan shifted in the seat to look at her, and Lyohniy spared a glance over his shoulder. Cyan hugged her arms tighter around her waist and looked as though she might be physically ill.

"Pull over." she said.

Lyohniy cast another worried look at her, "Huh?"

"Pull over. Anywhere." she repeated, "I just need to get out."

Lyohniy brought to the car to a stop on the nearby curb, and Cyan hopped over the side without opening the door. After killing the engine, Lyohniy, Vermilion, and Roan all followed her. She walked away from the street a few steps into an abandoned, fenced in lot. Vermilion and Lyohniy both looked around warily. It was well after sunset, and the whole area was dark, only lit by the few sparse street lamps on the edge of the curb. A quick glance at Roan indicated that the four of them were alone, at least as far as his hearing could carry. The other three watched Cyan pace back and forth furtively.

"Hey," Lyohniy tried to get her attention, "C'mon, talk to us."

She stared at the expressions of worry on their faces, and struggled to push through the quagmire that was her thoughts.

"Whatever it is, we're here." Vermilion said, "Okay?"

Her gaze snapped over to him, and she fixed him with a glare, "Vermilion, stop that."

A look of utter shock and confusion fell over him, as though she had just slapped him in the face, "Stop what?"

"That!" she said with insistence, "You're always doing that. Just 'being here'. Going right along with everything anyone else says."

He rested a hand on his hip, and blink several times in confusion, "So, what then, you don't want my help?"

Cyan pointed at him accusingly, "I want you to have an opinion of your own! You heard what the general said: 'You can't fight for what you don't believe in.'" she took a step closer until she was almost in his face, "I want to know what think about everything we've been working towards for the last year."

"Okay…" gradually Vermilion's flustered expression fell away, and he nodded at her slowly, "Fine then. I think what we're trying to do is growing more ridiculous by the day."

Lyohniy's expression went wide and he shot a worried glance at Cyan, while Roan just looked on quietly. Impressively, Cyan only slightly narrowed her eyes and said, "Go on."

Vermilion gestured at the group, "We aren't the police. We aren't soldiers. We aren't even full-fledged Huntsman and Huntresses. We're _students_. Tonight was the closest we've come to real progress in over a year, and despite our best efforts we still fell short. By a lot. None of us know what we're doing, and we are in way over our heads."

Roan lifted an eyebrow at Vermilion and quietly cleared his throat. Vermilion responded with a roll of his eyes, "Oh come on, you know what I mean."

"Woah, where is all this coming from?" Lyohniy demanded. He took a step in Vermilion's direction, but Cyan held up her hand to stop him.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes." he said, this time pointing at her, "I really don't think you've thought any of this all the way through. Let's say we do find Torchwick again. We catch him, he confesses to being behind everything, and even tells us exactly why."

He paused and swept his hand towards the distance, "Then what?"

She looked down and considered his words, "You're talking about after this is all over?"

Vermilion nodded, his eyes filled with concern, "Exactly. I know this is for Dad, but If you push everything else aside in order to avenge him, then what will you have left once you've done that?"

Cyan let her gaze trail off to the distance as she nodded thoughtfully, then shifted it to her right, "Lyoh? What about you?"

He glanced around in confusion as everyone's eyes fell on him, "What about me?"

"How do you feel about all of this?"

"How do you think I feel?" he said, his surprise gradually turning to annoyance, "I already made you a promise over a year ago."

She grinned at his stubbornness, and her eyes softened, "And do you still trust the person you were a year ago?"

Lyohniy's resolute expression suddenly faltered as he thought over the question. He nodded to himself and looked up at her again, "Yeah, ok. Maybe a lot of things have changed. But this much hasn't: I don't go back on my word."

He then shot a look at Vermilion, "And maybe we are just students. For now. But that's no excuse for just walking away whenever things start to get tough. When something comes up that we don't get right the first time, then we just keep at it until we do."

Lyohniy smiled and winked in Cyan's direction. She shook her head, but couldn't help smiling back.

Vermilion looked at his sister again, "Are you going to tell us what all of this is about?"

She gave him an affirming nod, "I had a decision to make, and I've made it. I'm not giving up until I get answers for this."

Lyohniy made a tacit sound of approval, but both Roan and Vermilion remained silent. Her brother crossed his arms behind his head, "What about what General Ironwood said?"

Cyan turned to the side, "Roan?"

He lifted his head and met her eyes.

"Why did you go along with the military's plan?"

Roan tilted his head to the side, and his ears twitched as though he was unsure of his answer, "I… had nowhere else to go."

She pressed him further, "But you could have said no. They didn't force you into service, right? You chose willingly to work for humans by infiltrating a group of Faunus. What made you do it?"

He looked away from her, and his eyes took on a hallowed look, as though his thoughts were taking him somewhere far away. When he met her gaze again, they were filled with sharp twinges of shame and regret.

"It was a peaceful demonstration." he said, his voice taking on a tiny quiver, "Everything was going fine. The humans were even willing to listen. But then the White Fang started the fighting that ruined everything."

He paused and took a breath and, when he looked back up at her, regained his normal composure, "If it wasn't for them, then my family might still be alive. I hated them."

Shock and surprise washed over Vermilion and Lyohniy's expressions. Gradually the emotions drained away from Roan's face until it hardened again into his usual icy calm.

"So," Cyan said, her suspicions confirmed, "what you're saying is that, for you, it was personal."

Roan gave a single slow nod as his reply. He took great effort to hide it, but Cyan could still see the deep sadness in his eyes, and she began to feel very guilty for having put him on the spot like that. She took a few steps in his direction and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. His expression again faulted and his voice came out in a whisper of surprise. After a few moments of silence, she stepped away.

"I don't think the general was entirely wrong, V." she said, "But I also don't think his way is the only way. Sometimes it's your personal feelings that can give you the strength to keep moving forward."

She walked a bit in the direction of the car and paused to look up at the sky, "I still want to be a Huntress. Nothing that's happened in the last year has changed that. But if I don't get any closure on this, I'll never be able to move on."

Cyan turned back to the other three and smiled, "As long as we don't give up, we'll get another chance. Until then, I'm going to keep working harder. And next time, Torchwick won't be so lucky."

Lyohniy and Roan both returned her smile before glancing at Vermilion. He took a deep breath, and let out a contented sigh, "All right."

"Ha, ha! Yeah!" Lyohniy pumped his fists.

Vermilion smiled at him and shook his head, "Though it would be nice to at least have something to go on. Back to square one, I suppose."

"Not necessarily…"

They all turned to stare at Roan as he fished a hand into an interior pocket of his jacket. He produced a small red-colored scroll and held it out before them.

Lyohniy peered closely at the device, "Is that…?"

"It's Torchwick's." Roan confirmed.

An enormous grin spread across Lyohniy's features, and he erupted in a series of belly laughs.

Vermilion's jaw hung open in disbelief, "How did you get that?"

"When I grabbed his coat as I was falling from the trailer."

Lyohniy wrapped an arm around the back of Roan's neck and pulled him tightly into an affectionate headlock, still laughing. After a brief, half-hearted struggle Roan managed to slip away.

"You think we'll be able to use that to find out where he went?" Cyan asked, holding out her hand.

"Possibly." Roan passed the device to her, "It will no doubt be encoded in some way. Deciphering it might take some time."

"We might not have to." Vermilion said rubbing at his chin in thought, "If he realizes that we have this, we might be able to get him to come to us."

Cyan held the device aloft and turned it in her fingers, "Assuming the contents are worth coming after…"

It was difficult to hold back her excitement, but after today the last thing she wanted to do was needlessly get hers or anyone else's hopes up. There would be plenty of time to consider this later. She shook her head and smiled at Roan again, "Thank you."

He smiled back at her, and she returned the scroll to him for safe-keeping before starting in the direction of the car.

"Let's go home."

The ride home was quiet, but Cyan could feel the weight of tension had been lifted from all of them. Just being around them gave her a curious sort of strength she couldn't quite explain. She slept soundly that night. Better than she had in a long time. The sun beamed down brightly the next morning as she stepped out of the front door. Lyohniy practically bounded down the steps ahead of her, followed closely by Vermilion. Roan went quietly down behind them, and Cyan exited the house last. She turned to face the wind and ran her fingers through her hair. The cool breeze felt wonderful on her skin.

Lyohniy took a deep breath, stretched, and let out a contented sigh, "What a great day."

Vermilion nodded in agreement, and turned to face Cyan, "Well we have about three months before we have to worry about submitting our application to the academy. What do you want to do?"

"I think…" Cyan pulled up on the leather strap, hoisting the harness holding Ardent Sky over her shoulder, "I want to get in a little practice."

Roan seemed surprised, but nonetheless nodded. Lyohniy's shoulders, along with his entire expression, visibly slumped, "You're kidding me."

With a little smile, she shook her head, "Atlas Academy is only taking the best of the best. Qualifying is the easy part. Earning an admission is harder."

"Independent study is difficult without formal instruction." Roan said.

"I don't mean to try anything new." Cyan explained, "More like: reinforcing the basics. Everything's going to change now, and I've got to be ready anything."

"Hm." Vermilion rubbed at his chin and glanced at the sky in thought, "Good point."

She stepped down from the porch and made her way past them, "I'm going to spend some time reviewing."

Vermilion started to follow her, "I think I will too."

Cyan stopped turned around, "You will?"

"Of course" he grinned, "You're no good without me. We can't have you drilling improper techniques."

She leveled her icy blue gaze at him, "Gee, thanks."

Vermilion and Lyohniy chuckled and Lyohniy then let out a great sigh, "Ah, what the heck. Count me in."

Cyan blinked at him in surprise, "You don't have to—"

"Sure I do" he cut her off, and rested a hand on Roan's shoulder with a firm pat, "After all, we're all we've got. If we don't watch out for each other, who will?"

Cyan and her brother exchanged a warm smile, and the four of them headed out.

"So where should we start?" Lyohniy asked.

"Perhaps by looking inward." Roan said thoughtfully.

They all paused and glanced at him. The look on his face seemed to suggest that he was surprised anyone even heard him.

"Introspective training?" Vermilion asked.

Cyan grinned at him with a knowing look, "Maximising strengths, shoring up weaknesses?"

Lyohniy's eyes suddenly brightened, "Hey, yeah! Maybe you could even show us some of those military survival and infiltration techniques?"

"I… suppose… " Roan smiled politely, but couldn't keep the nervous expression off of his face, "But I am not much of a teacher to be honest."

Lyohniy pursed his lips and narrowed his gaze, "Now you're just being stingy."

Cyan and Vermilion laughed as they headed out into the field. For the next three months, from sunup to sundown, Cyan spent her time practicing and training. True to his word, Roan's ability to impart the things he had learned left a lot to be desired. It was difficult at first, but as the days passed she could feel them coming together as a team. It became easier and easier to read the intent in their expressions and pick up on subtle visual cues that let them communicate whole sentences without saying a word.

With her sword gripped tightly in hand, and dressed in her armor, Cyan squared off in a balanced fighting stance in a large open field in the woods a short distance away from home. The late summer wind rustled loudly through the tall grass and trees surrounding the edge of the clearing. Roughly twenty meters in front of her stood her brother, his armor glistening in the early evening sun. He held his lance close to his body with the tip pointed slightly downward, and he stood in a wide defensive stance. Cyan glanced to her left and right and Roan and Lyohniy, who similarly stood opposite each other. Together they formed the points of a square, as they had dozens of times before. These friendly skirmishes had helped sharpen their collective skills to a razor's edge. Cyan slowed her breathing, as did the other three, and they each waited to see who would make the first move.

This time it was Lyohniy. A pistol appeared in his outstretched hand in a blur of motion and, with a series of quick trigger pulls, a hail of shots exploded out of the barrel at Vermilion. Her brother responded by deftly whirling his lance around to deflect the incoming attack before charging him head on. She didn't have long to observe their battle, as she noticed movement from Roan out of the corner of her eye. In an equally impressive display, a pair of his throwing knives suddenly appeared in each hand, and he hurled them one after the other in Cyan's direction. While the explosives had been disarmed— this _was_ only training after all— he more than made up for it through sheer volume.

Cyan twirled her sword about in front of her in both hands, knocking the incoming blades out of the air as she rushed to close the gap between her and Roan. The daggers continued to fly at her while Roan shuffled backwards, pivoting into different positions in an effort to better hide his angle of attack. She closed the remaining distance with a leap and a swung wide horizontal slash in front of her. Rather than teleporting out of the way like she expected, he crossed his arms on his right side and intercepted the blow. The weight of impact was enough to push him half a meter across the ground, but he stayed standing and tightly clasped his hands into fists. The force of his blades springing into position combined with his own strength was enough to shove her sword out of the way. Cyan turned her body as far as she could to let his thrust glance off of her armor, but still winced from the impact. After parrying his second attack she spun into a low sweep that caught the back of his leg. He was off-balanced only for a moment before falling into a tumble that carried him out of the way from her follow-up overhead swing, which thudded into the soft earth.

Roan then dove headfirst at her, which she barely managed to block in time by lifting the pommel of her blade upwards. His next series of strikes came quickly, aided in no small part by the tiny firing mechanisms built into the back of his knuckles. Normally, the shots would occur at the end of his punch and function as a ranged attack. Instead the energy was directed backwards away from his fist, propelling each punch forward in a furious speedy rhythm that was becoming harder and harder to counter. One strike found its way past her defenses, and she leaned her head to the side and felt the edge of the blade graze her cheek. Cyan flinched, and Roan used that instant to vanish from sight and thrust a heel into her back, knocking her to the ground.

Suddenly, Roan leaped backwards, narrowly avoiding Lyohniy's meteor shell as it passed within a centimeter of his head. Lyohniy yanked up on the cable swung the weapon in a circle overhead as he rushed forward. Roan ducked and weaved as he quickly shuffled backwards. Cyan scrambled back to her feet just in time to parry a thrust from Vermilion's spear. After a brief exchange, her brother ground his stance and pressed in with another one-handed thrust. Cyan intercepted the blow by bracing her sword vertically in front of her. With a forward snap of his hips, Vermilion funneled the raw kinetic force of his Semblance into the blow, tossing her backwards through the air. She planted the tip of her blade in the ground and dragged herself to a stop.

From the corner of her eye she saw Lyohniy trying unsuccessfully to keep Roan at a distance. With each upward swing to reset his pattern, Roan would teleport inside his reach for a free shot and quickly fade back out again. Cyan took aim at them both, and swung her sword high overhead, drawing a bright blue arc of energy in the air that hurtled in their direction. Roan glanced over his shoulder and vanished from the line of attack. Lyohniy quickly pulled his weapon back, coiling the cable about him as he knelt down and smashed a fist into the ground. His shield sprang up around him, and rippled from the impact of the crescent beam that washed harmlessly over it.

Vermilion rushed in Roan's direction, prompting the Faunus to leap back away from him. It didn't look like Roan had reacted in time, but the instant before the lance tip could make contact, he vanished again using his forward momentum to approach Vermilion from behind. In response Vermilion leaped into a high arcing backflip, swiftly transforming his weapon into a bow. At the apex of his jump, he fired a carefully aimed shot straight down at Roan's back. But the arrow exploded futilely into the ground when Roan simply vanished again, appearing in the air directly above him. Vermilion tried to orient himself to the new angle of attack, but Roan used his punching daggers to yank the bow out of the way, and after a brief aerial exchange Vermilion was knocked back to the ground.

As Roan began to descend, Lyohniy took aim with both of his pistols. Instinctively, Roan vanished from his line of sight and thudded gently to the ground some distance away. Lyohniy quickly adjusted his aim and opened fire, but couldn't draw a bead on him before another pair of throwing daggers nearly knocked the weapons from his grasp. He spun away and tried to aim again, but Roan closed the distance in an instant, slapping the edge of his weapons into both of Lyohniy's arms before leaping up to drive a knee into his chin.

Lyohniy reeled from the blow, and his arms sagged, prompting Roan to back away. All three of them panted heavily, eyes fixed on Roan, who kept his arms raised in front of him while drawing in deep steadying breaths of his own. This was how these exercises generally ended up. In theory, it was supposed to be a free-for-all battle, with each of them gradually converging on the first person to take a clear advantage over the others. It was an effective way to hone a number of necessary combat skills all at once, such as awareness of their surroundings, their ability to spot the important details during the chaos of a real battle, and learning the proper reflexive response to the unexpected. In practice it generally ended up as the three of them trying in vain to successfully pin down Roan, which wasn't entirely surprising given that he had far more practical experience than they did, despite their similar age.

Lyohniy was the first to break his stance by falling down to the ground. Cyan cast a worried look in his direction until she heard him laughing through his labored breaths.

"Heh... admit it," he said, lifting his head towards Roan, "I almost had you… at the end there."

With a flick of his wrist, the blades of his punching daggers split and snapped backwards onto his forearms. He walked to where Lyohniy was lying on the ground and extended a hand to help him to his feet, which Lyohniy accepted.

"You're reflexes are improving." he said.

Lyohniy narrowed his eyes, "That's not a 'yes'."

Roan nervously rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at Cyan and Vermilion for support.

Cyan smirked and rested one hand on her hip, "Don't look at me. You're the one that needs to learn how to be humble."

Vermilion and Lyohniy both enjoyed a brief laugh at Roan's expense. Cyan raised her arms high over her head in a stretch and looked towards the footpath that lead out of the woods, "Man, I'm beat. Anyone else feel like calling it? We have a big day tomorrow after all."

She took a few steps towards the edge of the clearing but stopped and turned around when she realized no one was following her. The other three each seemed to be doing their best to avoid looking directly at her.

"What?"

Lyohniy was the first to break the awkward silence, "Well… it's just, we've been thinking."

Vermilion continued, "We've been thinking that we should go visit Dad."

Cyan stiffened, and it was her turn to look away, "…What for?"

"C'mon Cyan." her brother rested his hand on her shoulder, "You haven't visited him. Not even once."

"You mean his grave?" she said, still refusing to look at him.

"We're leaving for the academy first thing tomorrow morning." Lyohniy said, "Who knows when you'll get another chance."

Cyan stood there silently for a long while before finally heaving out a great sigh, "All right."

Vermilion broke out into a grin and the four of them returned to the car. They spent the ride to the cemetery in silence. The sky turned a brilliant shade of amber as the sun began to descend below the horizon. Gravel crunched under the tires as the car made it's way through the large iron gateway hovering around the entrance before coming to a stop about half a kilometer inside. Cyan had lost track of her surroundings throughout the trip and it wasn't until she was walking towards the tombstone that marked her father's final resting place that she fully came to her senses. She had never seen a point to coming here before and wasn't sure what exactly to expect. What surprised her most was how… peaceful it all seemed. The crisp early evening air caressed her face as she carefully picked her way through the fallen leaves and well-tended grass.

Vermilion, who had been walking ahead of her suddenly came to a halt. She stepped between him and Lyohniy and felt her heart sink as her eyes fell upon the plain, unassuming grey tablet standing in front of them. Her father's name was intricately carved, along with the dates of his birth and death, and beneath them a small inscription that read, "He forever lives on in the memories of those he left behind."

She stared at the site in silence, glancing uncomfortably at everyone else around her. Her brother closed her eyes and bowed his head quietly for a moment before letting out his breath in a contented sigh. Lyohniy did the same, folding his hands in front of him at his waist. Roan also took a step forward, slowly knelt down and touched the tips of his fingers in front of him, gently bowing his head. He sat that way in silence for several seconds before smoothly rising to his feet.

The three of them started to turn away. Vermilion said to his sister, "We'll wait over there until you're ready."

She looked up at his eyes, not wanting him to leave her, "I… I don't know what to…"

"I talk to my dad sometimes." Lyohniy offered, "Just say whatever you want. Like he's right here listening."

He smiled at her then turned away, joining the other two in the shade of a nearby tree.

Cyan turned back around to face the tombstone again. Her mind stayed blank, but the words came out anyway.

"Hi, Dad."

She bit her lip and looked away. The more she tried to focus the more her thoughts seemed to slip through her fingers. So she simply exhaled and relaxed again.

"I um… I'm sorry that I didn't come by sooner. It's been…"

She wanted to say, 'busy', but she knew that wasn't true. And she knew how much he hated it when she lied.

"It's been hard, you know?"

She nodded to herself and looked over her shoulder. Lyohniy and Roan were discussing something amongst themselves. Vermilion only pretended to listen, keeping his gaze focused on her. She gently ran a gloved hand through her hair to push it away from her face.

"I got your present." she said, smiling as she ran her fingers across the patterned edge of the breastplate. "It's wonderful. Thank you so much."

The rest of the words came easier, "We've all been doing okay. Looking out for each other. Especially Lyoh… and Roan too." she grinned and tilted her head towards him, "He's the Faunus. I think you would have liked him."

She glanced off into the distance in thought for a moment before continuing, "I'm doing great in school too. I finally worked out my Semblance, graduated with honors— Instructor Jared was so proud."

She laughed as she pictured his reaction to that news, "Yeah. He's been working with me one-on-one for months. Can you believe it? I've been getting along with everyone a lot better…" her face soured as an image of Jet flashed in her mind, "…okay, almost everyone."

Cyan grew quiet as she tried to think of anything she might have forgotten to say, "I guess I just… I miss you. It's not the same without you. But I hope I'm making you proud, too. And…"

She took a step forward, and her expression turned hard as she placed a hand on the edge of the granite, "I haven't given up. I'm getting closer to finding the person that did this. And I promise he'll pay for it."

Her voice trembled as she spoke those words, and a single tear made it's way down her cheek. She gently brushed it away and smiled again, "Well I should get going. We're applying to Atlas Academy tomorrow. The transport leaves at dawn. I'll… try to come visit again as soon as I can."

She took a step backwards, and started to turn. Then she stopped and said, "I love you." before finally walking away.

Lyohniy and Roan's eyes met Cyan's as she made her way back towards them.

"You okay?" Lyohniy asked.

"Yeah." she smiled at him and nodded "Thank you. All of you. Let's get home."

The next morning, the four of them crowded towards the edge of the window with the rest of the prospective students as the transport pulled up into it's final landing approach. Sprawling before them was Atlas Academy; it's enormous grey steel walls stood in stark contrast to the glistening snow-covered mountain peaks in the distance behind it. Cyan stared down at the main hall with its enormous windowed lobby and then turned to face the other three standing behind her, each of whom instinctively met her eyes.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Absolutely." Vermilion replied.

"Hell yeah." Lyohniy said smiling widely.

"Mm." Roan grunted with an assertive nod.

She smiled confidently and turned back around to face the rapidly approaching academy again.

"Well, there it is." Vermilion observed, trying his best to sound casual, "Some of the best Huntsmen and Huntresses alive today graduated on a team from Atlas."

Cyan nodded in agreement, but smirked as she did so, "They're about to get one more."


End file.
